


The Snow Child

by Rising_Eagle (Nikolai_Knight)



Category: Norse Religion & Lore, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Break Up, Childless by choice, Family Drama, Happy Ending, Internalized racism, Jotun Odin (Marvel), Jotunn Loki (Marvel), M/M, Mental Health Issues, Past/Referenced Mpreg, Romantic Conflict, Sibling Incest, Thor/Loki Are Not Endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:07:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 89,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23393758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikolai_Knight/pseuds/Rising_Eagle
Summary: Loki kept his hold on Gungnir.He had survived the fall from the Bifrost on that fateful night.To appease the Frost Giants and salvage the peace treaty, Loki would be given to Jotunheim. He would spend six months of every year among the people he sought to eradicate. He would see firsthand the smouldering remains and grieving families, and he would redeem himself by saving those lost and alone in the frosty climes, but time was a cruel mistress. One thing risked his redemption. One thing risked his damnation.A child like him . . . a child alone in the snow.
Relationships: Loki/Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 173
Kudos: 142





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sherl8ckWat2on](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherl8ckWat2on/gifts).



_‘He’s alive, that’s all that matters.’_

_Thor paced before the infirmary. The door was open ajar, just enough so that he could see the lone figure hunched upon a far bed in a distant corner. It was like looking upon a stranger. The long locks of black hair were loose about his shoulders, but tangled and matted, while his green pyjamas were something that would never usually be worn in front of others. A thin blue line about his neck betrayed how pale his skin had grown, how sunken, and how fragile._

_A healer blocked his view and closed the door. Thor slammed his open palms against the doorframe, before he dropped his head against the marble, and – as a staggered sigh escaped his lips – the salty taste of tears invaded his throat. Odin came to stand beside him, and a hand dropped itself onto his shoulder, where it provided a gentle squeeze. The guards stiffened on either side of the door. Thor grunted, as he yanked away from Odin. He ran his hand over his face, while the tears fell wet against his fingers, and choked out in a whisper:_

_‘I thought you’d be glad he held on to Gungnir.’_

_‘Am I glad that my youngest son did not throw himself to his death?’ Odin scoffed. ‘I am insulted that you would even question that, Thor. Still, I cannot let him go unpunished . . . I cannot let him go without therapy and medication and watch from the healers . . . surely you must see this was some sort of mental break? He must make amends for his actions. He must heal.’_

_‘So we deal with matters here! Why bring Helblindi into this? It’s a shame what happened to Jotunheim, but . . . but what could they possibly want in recompense? I’m not offering Loki to them, not so that they can execute him or imprison him or worse.’_

_‘Do you really think I would do that to your brother?’_

_‘I never thought you’d exile your eldest son, either, but look what happened.’_

_Odin clenched at his fists. The thick veins bulged along the knuckles, while his nostrils flared with a long hiss of breath, and his glazed eye raked over Thor from top to bottom, until he slowly fixed his gaze and raised his finger an inch from Thor’s face. It wagged several times, until – with a snarl – it was yanked away. Odin turned his back on Thor. Thor also turned. The healers ran frantically at one end of the hallway, while the guards congregated at the other, and Odin dropped his shoulders and shook his head, before he spat out in a cold voice:_

_‘We will make peace with Jotunheim. That is final.’_

* * *

A few stray stretchers lay at the foot of the rubble. The wall beside them was half-collapsed, with bricks and mortar still crumbling away each time a heavy wind struck, and yet it provided a small iota of shelter as the three injured Jotun lay in various contorted positions. The largest lay huddled in the corner between the two walls, while a smaller on stretched out in an attempt to get comfortable, and the one that could have been perhaps a teenager lay in a foetal position.

The groans from the teenager were painful to hear . . . _so broken, so human . . ._ it was a universal sound understood in any language, but one that should never be uttered by one so young. There was heavy bruising on the exposed side of his body, while his loin-cloth did little to hide the extent of the wounds upon his hips and upper thighs, and his hands - . . . they clasped at his stomach with what little strength was left. There was a violent streak of dark blue, nothing like the colour of his skin, and it was clear that he was holding in what was left of his intestines.

“This man needs a doctor,” cried Odin.

“Don’t we all,” grunted a Jotun.

He turned to face the man, but the older Jotun was already gone. The chaos of the crowd allowed him to slip away easily, where the doctors and healers busied themselves by running from stretched to stretcher, all spaced in neat blocks outside the ruins of the city walls. The fifty-foot high wall sat between two large mountains, and yet very little shadow was cast over the vast thousands of wounded and dead, for its large arches and doors had been blown to rubble, with entire sections erased from existence. It left a few of the smouldering city beyond.

The city contained very few people. The few that remained were gathering survivors, searching through ruins, and steadying buildings from collapse, while many headed towards the makeshift camp on the outskirts beyond the city walls. Odin swallowed hard. The injured lay on blue stretchers, all against the walls or mountainside, but the dead lay on red stretchers . . . they stretched out so far that the snowy landscape looked awash with blood.

Odin stumbled back, as he pressed hard at his temple. A cacophony of cries and orders and questions echoed from both public and guards, until they grew incoherent and jumbled, and it took all his strength to fall towards the only permanent building in sight: a rundown tavern. It was right on the edge of the horizon, near to a cliff-edge that reminded him of the one from four days earlier when his sons had broken the peace pact. It was a stone structure with smoke billowing from the chimney, and people running in and out in a constant stream.

“Don’t stray from the path, _king_ ,” spat a passerby.

Odin grunted, but kept to the trodden snow. It was so compacted that it was like ice, forcing him to slow his pace to a crawl, even as men rushed past with bloody bandages or arms filled with medical equipment, and each one shoved him or refused to acknowledge him. He finally reached the tavern and slid in through the open door, as a healer burst through with a child in his arms, and – once inside – he ran to a far corner, where all the children were given place of pride under an intact roof and inside the furnished rooms. A baby wailed in pain from the second floor.

He looked up to see that the stairwells on either side led to wooden walkways, with the walkways on each floor able to overlook the hall below, and the roof above in clear sight, as a small crack in need of patching let through a shimmer of moonlight. He followed the beam down to a far side of the tavern, where one door appeared to open up onto a kitchen. There – just beside the door – stood a young Jotun that appeared to be of mixed blood.

The long locks of black hair were braided into an Asgardian or Vanaheim style, while his tunic was a unique item that could not be found on any of the Nine Realms, and – with it sleeveless and falling at his knees – the blue of his skin stood out was more vibrancy than any other Jotun. It was marked with intricate markings just like their kind, but somehow the tunic made them all the more enticing, as the eye sought to follow the patterns to their end, only to be stopped. Odin shook his head and walked to the man, before he tapped him on the shoulder hard.

“I’m looking for Helblindi,” said Odin.

The man spun around with a babe in his arms. He bore the nose and ears of an Asgardian, with piercing blue eyes that struck Odin so much of his sister and son, and the angles were so sharp that he would have been considered beautiful or handsome by Asgardian standards. In Jotunheim, he likely experience great ridicule or prejudice in his lifetime. The babe struggled to breathe, while the man held a mask over its face connected to a large plastic ball, and he would squeeze the ball in regular intervals that mimicked breath. He said with an upbeat tone:

“That would be me, Odin Borson.”

A younger Jotun came closer, with a tunic that spoke of a healer. He took the babe and continued to administer to what must have been a manual ventilator, while all the time looking Odin over with narrowed eyes and a curl to his thick lips, and he slipped away toward an improvised nursery, where an array of babes lay in various cribs or baskets or boxes. Helblindi gently touched Odin’s arm and led him up a nearby staircase. Every step creaked underfoot, as they ascended to the first floor, and Helblindi stopped only when they reached the furthest door. He paused with his hand over the doorknob, while he looked back over his shoulder with a sly smirk.

“You seem surprised,” laughed Helblindi.

“I did not expect to see you so . . . Asgardian in nature.” Odin grunted. “You look so much like Bestla and Fárbauti, were you ever told that? No, I suppose you didn’t need to be told. If these were any different circumstances, I would love to exchange stories with you about what became of them . . . I never did forget my mother and sister. I’ll cherish them always.”

“It’s just a shame that the war tore Bestla and Bor Burison apart, hmm? I know my father refused to mixed politics with personal matters, but I am not my father . . . if you wish, I can show you to their graves where you may pay your respects. We do not burn our dead like the Asgardian people, but bury them outside of the city on the highest mountain, so that they may be closer to the gods when they ascend to heaven. It’s almost ironic, though, isn’t it?”

“What’s ironic?”

“That our dead were the only ones protected in the attack.”

Helblindi smiled. It was at odds with the solemn statement. Odin pursed his lips into a thin white line . . . _amusement, shock, horror . . ._ the smile may have been one of many things, but it was the mask of a politician and one who would not let an iota of his true motive be made visible. The doorknob clicked open. Helblindi led the way inside, as he ushered Odin to follow, and soon the door clicked closed, leaving them only with candlelight and the odd oil lamp to illuminate what was once a bedroom and now stood as a meeting room. Helblindi sighed.

He sat at the far end of a table, where a map of the Útgarðar lay across the mottled wood. The paper was torn and yellowed in place, but heavily annotated in the Jotun tongue, and the wall to the city was marked in red where the damage had caused extensive damage. Odin frowned, as he took a seat opposite Helblindi and ran a callused hand over red and blue lines . . . blue for what could be salvaged, red for what was forever gone. Helblindi dropped his smile and asked:

“Would you have come here if Loki had died?”

Odin said nothing. The room was barren save for books and scrolls and contracts, without even a window to show the world beyond, and yet the screams from the children penetrated through the thin wooden walls nonetheless, but the cries of the adults were far worse. If Loki had chosen to fall to his death, it would have been punishment enough. Still, a little something niggled at the back of his mind to say: ‘the death of one son can never equal the death of thousands’. He let loose a heavy exhale and waved his hand lazily about him. He leaned against the table.

“The babe?” Odin asked. “Is he yours?”

“Mine? Heavens, no!” Helblindi laughed. “I always found it rather funny; these people trust me enough to let me lead them and order them and control them, but yet never trust me enough to share my bed or welcome an embrace. I suppose it’s much like having a dog or a horse. You would let your horse lead you halfway across the realms, but who would _bed_ a horse? No one.”

“You would compare a Jotun and Asgardian relationship to bestiality?”

“Why not? Laufey often did. He would say that’s why Bestla was named thus, and yet for all his proclaimed prejudices . . . he still bedded Fárbauti, didn’t he? There is an idiom among the people of Midgard: ‘the lady doth protest too much, methinks’. Oh, he could insult my appearance all day, and Byleistr may have well been his favourite, but when push came to shove -? He loved us all the same, just as he loved her. It _devastated_ him when you stole his son.”

“I did not steal Loki from –”

“Oh come now! If you were at war, where would you hide a child to be safe? There are laws that govern war . . . hence why we have something called ‘war crimes’, Odin. Do you know your crime? You broke into a temple; it was a place of sanctuary, a place of worship, but you broke in and stole our greatest treasure. No, not the Casket . . . _Loki_. You stole him.”

The vein in Odin’s temple throbbed. A sharp ache pervaded his jaw, as he drew in long and deep breaths through flared nostrils, and his hands fisted so tightly that the skin pulled tight in something reminiscent of his youth. He banged the underside of his fist several times on the table, where it rattled a few small ornaments that were used to mark parts of the map. He locked eyes with Helblindi. The gaze back was cold and hard, with the blue shining like the snow itself, and Helblindi drummed his fingers against the wood in a steady rhythm. Odin spat:

“I only entered the temple as his cries drew me to him.”

“But still you left with him,” said Helblindi.

“I left with a baby that needed a father . . . a home.” Odin shook his head. “Bor Burison may have written out Bestla and Fárbauti from existence, but he could not wipe them from my mind and memory, and when I saw Loki, I saw them, just as I saw them in you. How could I leave my nephew among the snow and ruins and among such – such – _such_ –”

“Savages?” Helblindi laughed. “I’m no fool, Odin. You were drawn to me, as you thought I was an Asgardian. I bet you didn’t ask a single Jotun for directions, did you? No. It’s not as though a people like that can know left from right, south from north, but that’s not _all_ that surprised you, either . . . _hmm_. I saw how your eyes widened and your lips parted, and I saw how your eyebrows knitted together. You were _shocked_ to see me – a Jotun – nurture a babe.”

“Of course, you are a prince and the babe isn’t yours.”

“No, I am a _king_ and you were not to have known that, Odin.”

Helblindi rose from his chair. He posed with his arms outstretched, like one offering themselves for crucifixion, and he slowly turned so as to offer all his body to view, until he had made one full circle and his eyes met Odin once again. Helblindi was smaller than the rest of his race, somewhere between Frigga and Loki in height, and his slim frame could have him pass as an Asgardian with a mere change to his skin tone. He soon retook his seat, where he sat with legs crossed and arms folded. The way his chin angled upwards caught the light just right.

“The truth of the matter is that you underestimate me based upon my race.” Helblindi sighed and tilted his head. “It is to be expected, as Bor divorced Bestla and disowned Fárbauti as soon the war began, and – in punishment for their loyalty to Jotunheim – wrote them out of the history books and denied their existence. What would a man like that have taught you?”

“He taught me how to be a good king and a benevolent ruler.”

“What about being a good man and a tolerant person? It isn’t so much what you learnt about our race that disturbs me, but what you taught Loki about our people. I admire how much effort it must have taken to take a blank slate and fill it to the brim with genocidal desire.”

Odin slammed his hand upon the table. The loud sound brought guards to the room, as they threw open the door and pointed halberds in his direction, and yet – despite the high tensions – only a chuckle escaped Helblindi, who waved to them to leave at once. They took positions on either side of the doorway outside, before closing the door behind them. The mutterings to one another could barely be heard, but the insults were clear and intended to be heard. Odin sucked in deep breath. He leaned forward with his arms on his knees, as he spat out:

“Do you often insult people with a smile?”

“You’d be _amazed_ how often people will smile back,” laughed Helblindi. “You can say whatever you want, so long as it’s said with charm and grace and a beautiful smile. I do not expect someone as astute as you to fall for such juvenile tricks, though, and that’s just as well . . . your son – my biological brother – has just decimated one tenth of our population, after all.”

“About that –”

“Ah, yes, ‘about that’. It’s funny how you know ‘about that’, isn’t it? You who slept and woke only to save his son just in time with a kind word, and whose wife has likely used her magic for you to appear here in lieu of a working Bifrost. It is an admirable illusion, as it can interact with physical objects in the basest of ways, but – regardless – you aren’t _really_ here.

“You also weren’t here when the attack struck. We were down our king, who went on his little excursion into your rooms . . . I don’t condone that, by the way, and I’ve publicly derided his actions and called for a parliamentary system to hold our royalty accountable in future. It’ll take time, however, as first we need to tend to our injured and dead, and then rebuild . . . ah, I’ve wanted an excuse to rebuild for so long! You’ll be _amazed_ at what I have planned.

“Still, this isn’t quite how I planned a restructuring of Jotunheim. I was out of the palace at the time . . . Byleistr was with the troops to form a strong defence along the perimeter, and I was on the other side of the city to help organise an evacuation. My brother-in-law lives in a village across the planet, and he’d only just left the city on an official visit the day before.”

“How is this relevant?”

“It’s relevant as Agnar stays in a small tavern nearby the residential district, as he’s something of a socialist and disagrees with being given luxury just because he happened to marry into royalty, and that tavern . . . that small building, just two upstairs rooms . . . it was reduced to rubble in the blast from your Rainbow Bridge. He could have died . . . my nephews could have died . . .”

Helblindi paled. The smile finally fell from his mouth. He stood and crossed the room to a small mountain of books, which ranged from agricultural to mythology to zoology, and took a decanter from one that was balanced just atop of an opened leather-bound volume. The decanter smelled sweet when undone, with the familiar scents of herbs and spices from Vanaheim, and clearly the Jotuns were doing well for trade until the attack. Helblindi poured a glass and mock offered one to Odin, before– with a scoff – he sipped from the tumbler with a shake of his head.

“I haven’t slept since it happened,” said Helblindi. “I can’t. I hear my people _scream_ in the night, and it’s from the grief of having lost family and the pain of their injuries and the nightmares from their trauma. It was Loki that did this . . . Loki who targeted our capital city, where seventy-percent of our population live. Did you see the orphanage on your way here, Odin?”

“No, I cannot say that I did.”

“Well, it’s probably for the best. We have no orphans to fill it now, anyway.”

The contents of the glass were downed. He slammed it back on the book, before he marched back to his seat and spun it around, and there he straddled its back and rested arms across the top, so that his could lean his chin upon them in a childish position. There were shorts beneath his tunic that kept his modesty, but they also revealed scars that could have came from abuse or battle or sheer accident. Odin winced. He knew where every one of Loki and Thor’s bruises came from, almost as well as he knew his own body. He choked out in a low voice:

“I came here to make peace, but instead you make jokes.”

“The death of my people is no joke.”

“Then tell me what you want,” said Odin.

“Why don’t you tell me what _you_ want first?” Helblindi shrugged. “You have confiscated the Casket of Ancient Winters for the past thousand years, removing our main source of energy and eradicating our bridge in the process, and you have avoided setting foot into Jotunheim at all cost, even to say goodbye to Fárbauti or return the brother you stole from me. Oh, but now -?”

“Now what, Helblindi?”

“Now you suddenly grace us with your presence. You make it sound as if you wish to do us a favour, or maybe a _quid pro quo_ . . . you sweep our attempted regicide under the rug, and we turn the other way on your attempted genocide, which – in theory – sounds ideal. It’s just that you can’t _prove_ Laufey tried to kill you, and even if he did -? Hmm, well we had no part in that.

“So that leaves your son having broken our peace treaty. Oh my, that _is_ a tricky situation for you, isn’t it? You fought us for so long, but you are also the peacekeeper of the Nine Realms, and what would happen should those Nine Realms rise up against Asgard? If they penalise you for a war crime, that would be bad enough, but an act of genocide and the breaking of a peace treaty would likely cause them all to revolt against you. It’d be the war of a lifetime.

“I bet you want to avoid that at all costs, don’t you? You are old, likely with less than a decade left to live, and your sons . . . well, the less said there the better. Do you think Thor ready to rule? Do you think Loki at all _compos mentis?_ Asgard in its current state against nine realms – ouch! I bet you’d do anything to make this go away, but only _I_ can make it go away.”

“You think you hold the power, my boy?”

“No, _you_ hold the power. If you want me to sign a new peace treaty and wipe the slate clean, you’ll have to give me something in return to make the deal worth my consideration. The first thing I want is the promise of the Casket, to be returned once the Bifrost is complete, and this shall help us to power a new transport system and give us a new energy source.

“The second thing I want, which will be _instant_ , is Loki.” Helblindi sighed. “He is aware of secret passages into Jotunheim, so he can escort himself here, but – if need be – I can come collect him or you can use the last of your Odinforce to send him here. I believe that we can actually rehabilitate him here, and I believe that we can actually have him work off his debt to society in a way that I think you would overlook. Tell me, how do _you_ seek to punish him?”

Odin shook his head. He reached for one of the small ornaments on the map, but the illusion of his presence shimmered and his hand tingled with needle-like pricks . . . _‘you are not really there, my love, be careful not to break the spell’_. . . Odin sighed. He dropped his hand onto the table again, where it was somewhere cool to the touch, but whether it was truly cold or psychosomatic was beyond his reason. A breeze blew from underneath the doorway, and the draught picked up dust and dirt into small whirlwinds about the floor. Odin watched them even as he asked:

“Why would I punish him? He is mentally unwell.”

“Mental illness is a reason and not an excuse.”

“That is true, but can you really punish one that was not in control of his actions?” Odin sighed. “If he had done anything further, I would have been forced to imprison him, or – worse – execute him, but as things stand . . . we believe that Loki can be helped by our healers. We will show him that he is loved and wanted, as it is his feelings of inferiority that motivated this behaviour, and we shall have our healers look for any pre-existing mental illness and offer therapy as needed.

“How could a man like you rehabilitate Loki? If he were here with you, his internalised racism would only worsen when confronted by the people he so hates and the reality of his self that he could not escape, and he could possibly grow to loathe himself even further when confronted so directly with the consequences of his actions before his mind is ready to accept them.”

“Oh, but you are better equipped to handle my adopted cousin and biological brother? Tell me, did you never refer to us as ‘monsters’ in front of him? Did you never slander us as barbarians who only ceased to be a ‘danger’ when kept in check by the great Odin? Were the villains in your plays never blue-skinned? Was ‘Jotun’ never said with total contempt by your people?

“Ah, but let us not forget that he now thinks himself _worthless_ in your eyes . . . no, not just you . . . he thinks himself worthless to the world solely because of his race, which he hides under an illusion of his own now that yours has been broken. Why would he think that his family would love him any less for his race? Did you and Frigga play favourites? Did he already grow up with prejudices as an _ergi_? You ruined this man and made him into a neurotic mess!”

“How dare you? You remember to whom you speak!”

“I speak to the man that kidnapped my brother, a half-cast, and taught him to be ‘passing’ as an Asgardian and to hate the very people who gave him unconditional love! Even you couldn’t offer him that, Odin. If your love was so unconditional, why hide his skin colour from the moment you took him from our realm and why lie to him his whole life? Why make his heritage a shameful secret? No, I do not trust you. I want Loki here with us as a condition of any new treaty.”

A low snarl broke from Odin. The sun from Asgard shone on his back, but the cold draught from Jotun caught about his feet, and the reality bled into the illusion, until bright specks of colour danced about his vision and distorted the world before him. He jumped to his feet. He paced. The slow and deep breaths helped centre himself and ground the illusion, as he clasped his hands behind him by the wrist, and his head remained low as he fixed his gaze on the ground. Each hissed breath echoed about the room, until he spat out in a hushed whisper:

“How would this even work, Helblindi?”

Helblindi stood, while he gestured to the wall behind. A large makeshift calendar was pinned to the wooden wall, with the dates coexisting alongside the Asgardian calendar to allow for easy conversion. The date of the massacre was written in red, and hundreds and thousands of notes were written scribbled in the Jotun tongue for those that came after . . . so much was empty before that date, but now the paper was awash with so many words that it looked almost black. A hum fell from Helblindi, as he gestured to the upcoming half of the calendar. 

“Loki will spend six months of each year here,” said Helblindi. “The other six months can be spent wherever he so wishes, assuming he wishes to return to Asgard. We will deal with him in those six month as we see fit, but – to put your mind at rest – I will guarantee no physical, sexual, or emotional abuse of his person. We will see to it that he is rehabilitated.”

“I will not disown him, he will remain my son.”

“Of course, we are not like you Asgardians. Your adoption of him may be illegal, but it is an adoption nonetheless, and that makes him your son and your kin . . . even if you were to disown him, we would never see him as any less than Odinson. My father would not have agreed, but he is not here to argue for the return of Loki Laufeyson. Loki Odinson is who he shall remain.

“Of course, we will still want the Casket of Ancient Winters when the Bifrost is repaired. The repairs should take . . . what . . . two or three years? Well, we waited _centuries_ , so I believe we have the patience to wait a little longer all things considered. If these two conditions are acceptable to you, I will have the papers drafted and ready for you to sign. In return, we will relinquish any rights to seek further justice for this act of genocide. You will be free.”

“You will not attack Asgard? You will maintain your distance?”

“You are implying that I would have other motivations, like a future attack.” Helblindi sighed. “I am not my father, as I keep saying, but I’d remind you that we were _driven_ to attack Midgard, those centuries ago, due to the harsh impositions and restrictions placed upon us by Bor Burison. Unless you plan on equally making trade impossible and removing our rights, until we are forced close to mass starvation as second-class citizens of the universe -? War will be off the table.”

Odin clenched his fists. A scream from the tavern echoed out about the upper floors, while guards outside shouted and scurried about, and a shout from the base of the stairs sounded something like ‘brother’. Helblindi did not flinch. In spite of the apparent emergency, he continued to smile at Odin with his eyes soft and gentle. Odin inhaled deep. He turned around with pursed lips and flared nostrils, as he looked Helblindi over from head to toe, and – with a scoff – marched back to the table, before he threw himself into the seat and spat:

“Your terms are . . . acceptable.”

Helblindi nodded and returned to the table. He pulled out a series of parchment from beneath his chair, and – with a heavy slam – dropped them onto the table between them, where a burst of air knocked back a lock of long hair and caught at his thick eyelashes. The scrawl upon them was both Asgardian and Jotun, with each alternating paragraph a translation of the opposing tongue, and at the very bottom of each page sat two empty lines. Odin bit into his lip. The bitter taste of iron flooded his mouth, as his heart raced in his chest, and Helblindi said in a bright voice:

“Good, now let’s discuss the fine print . . .”


	2. Part 1

“Loki, we cannot delay any further.”

The wildlife stirred in the distance. A bilgesnipe roared loud enough to shake the trees. It sent a shower of snow raining down upon them, so that the campfire fizzled and flickered, and the white mist clouded his vision as Thor raised a hand to shield himself from the worst. The remainder of the snow fell about the makeshift campsite, which allowed for his feet to have some grip on the now heavily trodden ice underfoot. He snatched at his fur blankets.

They rolled into a tight bundle, which he attached to the small backpack. It was thrown onto his back, where the heavy weight pulled his back into a proper posture, but the thick furs and warming leathers brought a clammy sweat to his bared skin. He tugged and pulled in an attempt to get comfortable, while he scoured the campsite for any stray items. A few bones sat by the fire, with a few teeth marks on one or two. The stones around the campfire were black in places, with the dying embers sparkling in and out of life, and a loud cracking noise emanated from the wood.

Loki squatted at the edge of the campfire. The thick fur cape sat around his shoulders, while his pale hands warmed themselves on what was left of the heat, and the low light cast dark shadows about his green eyes, highlighting the black bags that betrayed his fatigue. Loki tilted his head, where his black locks fell loose without the usual care to slick it back. Thor bit into his lip. He drew in a long and deep breath, before he came around to stand beside Loki, who asked:

“Can we not spare another few days?”

“We have already wasted enough time,” said Thor. “I have a feeling that Helblindi knows that we’ve taken the scenic route to the palace, as I doubt you stopped a few days outside of Útgarðar every time you visited Laufey for your Machiavellian schemes. I would have noticed.”

“Would you?”

“Look, I know your mind isn’t in the right place, but I’m starting to resent your implications. First you claim that I tried to throw you into the abyss, and now you claim that I never cared about you, but everything I did -? I did it for you. I was even willing to sacrifice myself on Earth for _you_ , Loki! Why are you so intent to play the victim? Why do you keep pushing me away?”

“I don’t know, Thor. It could be because I’m a mentally-unstable genocidal maniac.”

“Nice, Brother. You joke and jest, I’ll just deal with the emotional baggage alone.” Thor ran his hands through his hair. “I can understand that you had a lot to deal with this past week, and I can understand that you need time to process things, but humour is not a –”

Thor stopped. He glared at Loki. The moving lips continued to mime along to his words, as they followed with ‘an appropriate coping mechanism’, and – with a quick double-take – Loki smiled and blew a kiss to Thor, as he batted his eyelashes in a melodramatic manner. Thor fisted his hands. He took in slow and deep breaths. The words of his mother echoed about his head . . . _‘be patient with him, for he is far from well and needs our support’_. . . Thor laughed. It was a low sound that echoed about the small clearing, and it brought a sincere smile from Loki.

He stared into the woods, even as he offered forth his hand. Loki took it without complaint. The crick to his neck and back was audible, as Loki twisted and stretched and contorted, and stood before what was left of the campfire. The dying embers cast a low light against the dense forest, and the thick and leafless branches of the trees cast long shadows, each one flickering and moving as if they were surrounded by dozens of strange creatures. A red glow came over the landscape, as the sun rose slowly in the distance and provided some further natural light.

“You haven’t changed at all,” whispered Thor.

“If only that were the case . . .”

The smile fell from Loki. He turned his back on Thor; the sunlight through the trees illuminated his face, emphasising the sharp and angular features, and – lifting his head as if instinctually searching for the warmth – Loki strode forwards toward the edge of the forest. The frost crunched underfoot, as Thor followed with hands clutching the straps of his backpack. A cold breeze blew through the thinning trees, enough that Loki clutched his furs ever closer to his chest and neck. Thor slapped a hand onto his shoulder and asked through laughter:

“How is it that you feel the cold?”

“How is that you _don’t_?”

Thor shrugged. He jogged quickly a few feet, gaining an advantage on Loki, and slowed down to raise his hand over his eyes, where the rising sun cast its light over Útgarðar. The pale snow reflected back the sunbeams and stung at his eyes, until he squinted and struggled to adjust his vision to the miles upon miles of white wilderness. Loki stopped just beside him. The scent of his cologne was at odds with the stench of soot and iron that lingered in the air, causing his nostrils to flare and his hand to be thrown before his face. He snorted. 

The mountains that surrounded Útgarðar hid most of the cityscape, but the monstrously tall walls at the main gates were still on view, and most of the arches were collapsed or cracked or crumbling away in the wind, dropping debris onto the people below. A few tents lay in an organised layout, while rows and rows of bodies and injured decorated the planes beyond. The hubbub was far less than what was described by Odin, but the few surviving buildings outside of the city walls were heaving with people . . . taverns, inns, stables, storage sheds . . .

“I did not expect it to be so unrecognisable,” whispered Thor.

He stepped forwards. He dropped his hands to his sides. The weight of the oppressive cold was heavy in his throat, burning the back of his mouth with every inhalation, but his skin was warm and drenched with a thick sweat. Every beat of his heart echoed aloud, gaining a faster and faster rhythm, and his eyes fell on a stall somewhere on the outskirts. The people lined up for a few scraps of food, in a line that contained hundreds of people. They were starving. Thor stepped forward again, as he ran a trembling hand over his face. A cold laugh escaped him.

“It can’t be as bad as it looks,” muttered Loki.

“You’re seeing what I’m seeing, right?”

“Well, _obviously_ , but what I mean is that this is just one city.” Loki shrugged. “I imagine they have villages and towns totally unharmed, and it’s not as though they can’t just rebuild. If I’m honest, I’m still struggling to understand how Father wasn’t happy with what happened . . . he _hated_ the Jotun race. Why wouldn’t he want them wiped out of existence?”

“I don’t know, Loki. It could be you changed him. If he were to wipe out all Jotuns, it would mean losing you, too. I know he and Mother . . . well . . . they were a little uneven in how they raised us, but I don’t think that’s because they had favourites. I think – I think Father found it easier to bond with me, as we both had the same interests, and Mother just overcompensated with you so that you wouldn’t feel left out. I was always jealous of you two, if I’m honest.”

“You don’t think he spent more time with you due to being Asgardian?”

“I think if he were that prejudiced, he wouldn’t have adopted you in the first place. Even if he pitied you or thought you were abandoned, why not just give you to a servant or family member or anyone else in the whole Nine Realms? He chose to call you his son. If anything, I would argue that a stronger bond . . . he _chose_ you as his son, but he didn’t choose me. I was just the heir that was expected from him. I’m not saying he didn’t love me, but just . . . he loved you, too.

“I don’t know why he once favoured war with Jotunheim and called them monsters, but I think that the reason why he fights for them to be our allies is simple . . . _you_. If one single Jotun can be so intelligent, quick-witted, loyal, passionate, and emotive -?” Thor shook his head. “Well, why can’t others? Clearly they aren’t born evil, else you would be evil, too.”

“Aren’t I?” Loki kicked at the snow. “I didn’t mean to kill you on Earth, but the fact remains that I nearly _did_ kill you with the Destroyer, and Father blatantly condemns this act of what he terms ‘genocide’ towards the Jotun. If they really are monsters, this was nothing but pest control, but if they really are something more . . . if they really are as complex as us . . . how am I supposed to live with that? Why didn’t I just fall into the abyss? I don’t even want to think about that.”

The ruins still smoked in places. A small cottage lay in ruins, while one elderly man tried to patch the roof with wood salvaged from a destroyed barn, and his cattle lay dead in a pile, where a group of younger men carved at them for meat to distribute. Thor bit into his cheek. He raised his hands before him and flexed his fingers, but the white flesh was tanned by the sun and stood out against the snow beneath them in his vision, and slowly his gaze turned to Loki, who stared back into the woods with half-narrowed eyes and lips pressed into a tight line.

Thor pressed a hand to his upper arm, as he slowly shook his head. Loki widened his eyes, as his lips fell open and stumbled over unspoken words, and – finally – he yanked his arm away and buried his hands into his hair until fingers dug at black locks. There was no going back. They could only go forward. The sky above was grey and black, and every breath from Loki formed like clouds thick as the ones above. There was snow coming, but few places for shelter between the woods and Útgarðar, and the city was at least a day’s walk from the forest.

“You can’t just ignore your actions, Loki,” said Thor. “If you choose to just dismiss them as monsters and forget about what you’ve done, it really will drive you into madness. You will either lose yourself to hedonism and self-interest, or you will risk running into those that would take advantage of your broken state. Own what you did. It is good you have a conscience.”

“Why? So I can lose myself in guilt and grovel for mercy?”

“Did you ever see me grovel for my follies? No. I spent three days on Earth and I learned modesty, selflessness, and empathy for others; even when I failed to understand on a cognitive level, I still understood on an emotive level. I’m just asking that you do the same.”

Loki turned. He tilted his head upward, while his green eyes widened. The paleness to his skin only emphasised the bloodshot nature of his eyes, and the tremble to his lips brought Thor a step closer toward him. He reached for Loki. A hand brushed against his long neck, and his thumb stroked against that sharp jaw and soft cheek. He pressed their foreheads together, as they shared in the same breath as the wind rustled at the bare branches, and Loki reached for the buttons that held Thor’s cape to his leather vest. A trembling whisper escaped his lips, as Loki asked:

“If I admit I have done wrong, I can come home?”

The tears pricked and stung, as Thor pulled back just a few inches. He kept his hand on the soft skin, while sweat mingled with tears and added to the pain, and the weight of his body shifted from foot to foot, as the wind caught at his blond hair. It blew about in strands about his face. A recent braid behind his ear brushed against the stubble of his chin, with the leather entwined cool upon his skin, and he slowly slid his hand down the furs that rested on his toned arms, before taking a hand and bringing it to his lips. He pressed a chaste kiss to the knuckles.

“If it were up to me, I’ve never have let you go.” Thor drew in a shuddered breath. “You only have to endure six months of every year, remember that, and I will pester Mother continuously to let me visit you with her magic. I guess . . . I guess Father has a theme in his punishments.”

“So this is my punishment,” whispered Loki.

“I think it is both punishment and treatment; they may be able to help you, when we couldn’t.”

Loki stepped back. The scoff that followed was cold and low, and the curl to his lip was betrayed only by the hunch to his back and the tears that filled his eyes. He stabbed at the air between them, stumbling over grunts and snarls and half-formed words, until he finally settled on pacing back and forth with his hands buried deep into his hair. Thor lowered his head. He pressed a hand to his temple, as he took slow and steady breaths, but a high-pitched mewling sound stopped all conversation dead between them before it had chance to begin.

They turned.

There – in the snow – stood a small child. It must have been about seven or eight at most, but a large cut down its face aged it beyond its years. The cut was deep and purple around the edges, with an infection that threatened to spread if left untreated, and a red line ran down his eyelid when he blinked, so that he may well have lost his eye if the cut was just a few millimetres deeper into the flesh. He wore only a small loin-cloth and stood barefooted.

The ribs on his chest were prominent, and bruises ran down his torso. Thor shielded his eyes, as he looked around the planes in sight of any other adult, but the trail of footprints dipped down into one of the slopes and the starting point was unclear. There were no adults. There were no other children. Thor crouched down and reached towards the boy, but he darted back and hid behind a large boulder that sat just to the side. The wide-eyes were locked on Thor. The small hands dug so tightly against the rock that his blue knuckles looked almost white.

“See, they won’t even show mercy on their young,” hissed Loki.

Thor raised his hand in a gesture for silence. He kept his eyes forward, even when the ensuing scoff sounded louder than the last, and fussed around in his pocket just above Mjølnir, where a rustle caught the boy’s attention. The boy poked his head out, as Thor pulled out some jerked meats and tossed them some distance ahead. He stood and stepped back. The boy furrowed his brow, but soon ran towards the meat on seeing the new distance. Thor asked:

“Why are you here all alone?”

The boy guzzled down the meat, practically inhaling the few strips. Thor looked to Loki and nodded to the small child, but Loki simply emptied his pockets and shrugged, and – with a sigh – Thor scratched at the back of his neck and squatted down once again. The boy dropped down onto snow. He sat cross-legged, while his hands scrambled and scratched at the snow in search of more scraps, until he finally stopped and stared back at Thor with a pout. He said:

“I wanted to hunt, Sir.”

“You’re too young to hunt alone, boy,” spat Loki.

“I – I know, but . . . we need to eat.”

Thor sighed. He pulled off his backpack. The pockets were stuffed to the brim with various tools and fabrics and presents, but there was nothing but crumbs and scraps left of the rations. Thor pulled out his hand. The last of the crumbs fell onto the snow, as he stared into his empty hand and waggled his fingers, and – with a heavy sigh – he dropped his arm onto his lap. He stared at the boy and the boy stared back. Loki was the one to break the silence with a loud:

“Why doesn’t your father hunt?”

“My father died in the attack,” mumbled the boy. “He works as a blacksmith, and – and – and someone wanted him to deliver something, so he got hit by the big blast. I thought that maybe I could find some food, because there’s not enough food to buy . . . everything’s going to the camps where the sick people live, and my other daddy is too sad to hunt.”

“What do you mean that he’s too sad to hunt?”

“He just _lies_ there all day! I keep shaking him, but he just rolls over. He won’t speak and he won’t eat and I don’t know what to do . . . my brother is really hungry, so I have to do something, and he’s only little, so he’s getting weak already and I – I – I need to get him some food! I know there’s bilgesnipe in the forest, so I thought I’d hunt one. They’re big. They have lots of meat.”

“A bilgesnipe, huh?” Thor drew in a deep breath. “They’re very big and very scary. They might be a bit big for one so small, and I would not want your blood on my hands. Why don’t you tell us where you live? We can speak to your daddy and give him some food.”

“Thor,” said Loki. “What food can we give him? We have none!”

Thor jumped upright. He darted to Loki, while keeping his eyes fixed on the child, and grabbed firmly on his upper arm, as he pulled him off to some distance. A sharp breeze caught at the snow, sending it dancing about the landscape like sand in a desert, and – while Loki pulled and tugged and muttered his complaints – the child sat alone on the snow, where it gathered around him and piled at his sides with the force of the wind. Thor pointed in his direction. Loki grunted and brushed at his sleeve, and Thor said in not-quite-a-whisper: 

“That wound looks fresh.”

“So what?”

“So he either got it in the attack or by attempting to hunt.” Thor winced. “It doesn’t matter which one, because _we’re_ the reason why he was injured either way . . . look, it would only take an extra day at most to find his home. He walked here, so it can’t be far for a boy his age. I say we take him by the hand and follow his footsteps back to his house. We can help!”

“I’m sure Helblindi is taking care of it. Why would he let a boy starve?”

“How could he stop it when you probably wiped out all social care and police forces? You can see the camps from here. There are thousands of dead on those red stretchers; I have seen poppy fields less crimson, but you think there are enough people to notice his plight?”

“We – We can’t help every one of those men, Thor.”

“No, but we can help that _one_ boy, can’t we?”

Loki lifted his hand; he tilted it left and right, while he uttered a low ‘eh’. Thor rolled his eyes and marched back to the child, but the harsh strides had the boy scurrying away, until Thor lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender. The snow between them was littered with footsteps and crumbs, with the boulder not far off casting a long shadow as the sun continued to rise, and Thor extended a hand downward, as he nodded towards the foot of the mountains. A small village contained maybe a dozen buildings at most. Thor chirped in a warm voice:

“Why don’t you come with us?”

“I’m not supposed to go with strangers,” said the boy.

“Well, I’m Prince Thor and this is Prince Loki.” Thor stepped closer and smiled. “You are right not to talk to strangers, but I promise that we will not hurt you. I know! Why don’t you stay here? We’ll bag you a bilgesnipe, and we’ll even drag it home for you. Did you know that Prince Loki is a witch? That’s why he dresses like that. He can cook it up good for you all!”

“Really?”

“Really! Plus, we both know King Helblindi. I bet that – once you and your brother have eaten – we can arrange for him to send an adult to help you, maybe just to make sure you get your share of the rations and don’t get overlooked. I promise that things will be okay, child.”

“You can’t promise that. Father promised that and he died.”

“I – I’m sorry . . . what’s your name?”

“Ingvar.” He sniffed. “Father said that things would be okay, because his business wasn’t very good, and then he went away for a big shipment! We were so excited. He said he’d bring back some fresh fruits from Vanaheim, because he would have the money, but then – but then the city exploded and he never came home. He promised. He _promised,_ Prince Thor!”

The tears fell fast down his cheeks. They darkened with each hiccupped sob, while tiny fists pushed and rubbed at his dark eyes, and Ingvar struggled to his feet, as he choked down heavy breaths through his cries. Loki sighed. He marched forward and pushed past Thor, and stormed towards the child . . . _‘Loki? Loki, stop! He’s just a child’ . . ._ Loki stopped right before Ingvar, who clutched tight at his body and screwed shut his eyes tight. He was pale, while his little limbs trembled. Loki rolled his eyes. A low huff escaped him, before he knelt down.

A bright smile broke across his face, adding to the crinkles at the corner of his eyes. He reached out to the horns on Ingvar’s head, which ran flat across his skull like much of his race, and ran his fingertips lightly over them, careful not to touch the skin. Ingvar sniffed. Loki hummed an old tune, before pulling out a small hard-candy from his pocket. The sparkle to Ingvar’s eyes made the tears seem so small, as he snatched at the candy and sucked away, while Loki careful spun him around with the tips of his fingers and looked him over. Loki asked:

“Where did you get that facial wound?”

“I went into the city to look for Father. I saw the building where he sometimes worked with other blacksmiths, but the horses were scared and the roof was falling and something hit me when I tried to look around outside. It made my eye bleed a lot and it really hurt.”

“Do you have any herbs at your house?”

Ingvar nodded.

“Okay, well . . . that’s a start, I suppose.”

Loki tipped his hand palm upward. He offered it to Ingvar, who took it with a hesitant touch. The hue slowly turned a light shade of sky-blue, before it darkened and spread, and soon the whole hand was a dark blue that could match any Jotun, complete with raised marks. Ingvar gaped. He widened his eyes, as his mouth opened with childlike giggles, and jumped up and down on the balls of his feet, while playing with Loki’s hand and pulling at his fingers. Loki frowned and tried to pull away, but Ingvar held tight and clasped his hand with both his hands.

“Your skin looks like mine,” said Ingvar.

“I guess that means you look just like a prince,” said Loki. “A king, too! Do you know my father has a scar that looks just like that? Now, my skin only looks blue for so long as it’s touching something _very_ cold, because of a spell cast on me, so do you know what that means? It means you have to hold onto my hand very tight and for as long as possible.”

“I can do that!”

“Good. I want you to take me to your house. I’m going to use those herbs to make a paste for your face, which will stop the pain and infection, and it might reduce the scar, too. In the meantime, this big blond idiot is going to look for a bilgesnipe. We’re going to fix your face, and – by the time we’re finished – Thor will have brought a bilgesnipe back for us to roast. We’ll stay the night to make sure that you and your brother and father are okay, too. Okay?”

“Okay!”

“Okay, then . . . good.”

Every inch of Loki grew into a dark blue, complete with markings and crimson eyes. Thor did a double-take. He raked his eyes over every inch of Loki, from the fur of his boots to the trim of his collar, and – as his mouth watered – his lips fell open and closed in search of words. Loki avoided his gaze, and instead lifted Ingvar high and rested him against his hip, so that he could carry Ingvar as he made to follow the footsteps. He kept his head low. Thor darted forward and grabbed at his upper arm, with a whispered ‘Loki’ on his breath, but Loki choked out:

“Don’t say a word, Thor. Just go get some food.”

“Will you be okay?”

“No, not really. I may be his hero now, but what about when he grows up and realises the part I played in this whole debacle? Look, I’m not like you, and I’m _certainly_ not saying I feel guilty or that the Jotuns are anything but monsters, but this one . . . this boy . . .”

“I’ll be as quick as I can, Loki. I swear.”

Ingvar tugged at Loki’s hair, while he babbled about how he looked like their prince. The words turned into the incoherent and long-winded stories that only a child could tell, and Loki marched with his shoulders slumped and head dropped forward. They stood out well against the white plane, with the black-and-green garb highly visibly against the snow, and Ingvar waved at Thor from over Loki’s shoulder as they walked. Thor waved back. Every muscle on Loki’s frame was tight and tensed, enough that Thor’s stomach turned and bile broke in his mouth.

“I’m proud of you, Loki,” shouted Thor.

“I hate you, Brother!” Loki replied.

Thor laughed. The words were light-hearted, like their usual brotherly jests, but the body language was different . . . dark . . . Loki was forced into a new skin, but ashamed to wear it, and he seemed to hide in on himself with the child as a shield. Thor sighed and turned back to the forest, where a roar from the bilgesnipe created a small avalanche in the distance. He kicked at the backpack on the floor, as he unhooked Mjølnir from his belt, and marched forward.

The bilgesnipe waited.


	3. Part 1

The candlelight cast long shadows. It caught at the far corners of the meeting room, where the stone walls looked almost black in the darkness, and the map – strewn across the marble table – was barely legible in the low light, with the Jotun runes almost one straight black line. The broken window brought in a cold draught, so that the flames flickered and the shadows danced about the room. A covering of snow turned the floor white nearest the window.

Byleistr paced back and forth at the far end of the table, while the guards on either side of the double-doors fidgeted and shifted from foot to foot, and the blisters on their feet were visible from the distance, along with the bags to their eyes and barely suppressed yawns. A few healers called out from the rooms below, where people scarpered to and fro like ants. Helblindi turned his back to Byleistr. He stepped towards the window, where the shards of glass lay piled to the side, and the few loose pieces in the frame rattled with the wind, as the snowstorm raged.

The front gardens of the palace were brown for all the tents. A few were mere leather canopies, others were intricate constructions that were reminiscent of a cabana, and yet all of them teemed with healers and the most complex patients. The wrought-iron fence was warped in places, enough for the healthy visitors to climb over as a shortcut. They brought supplies, food, and clothes for the wounded. Helblindi raised a hand to shield his eyes from the snow. 

“The old buildings used to have shutters,” muttered Byleistr.

“The oldest buildings were built into the mountainside. If age is an indication of worth, perhaps we should shun the sun and live like hermits.” Helblindi turned his back to the window. “Well, I suppose more of our people would have survived if we had . . . perhaps if we implement a series of escape tunnels, building not too deep so as to allow for light, we could –”

“You’re getting ahead of yourself, Brother. We need to bury our dead before we think about where to house the next generation of our people. If you live with your head in the clouds, you’ll trip over the immediate reality in front of your feet. What do we do now?”

“Of course, we need to deal with immediate matters, but our people need _hope_. We need to sell them a goal . . . an end result . . . if they think that _this_ is all they have, why wouldn’t they give in to despair and lose motivation to improve? I have a vision for Jotunheim. We may have to struggle in these first few years, but as soon as we get the Casket –”

“We’ll have trains that can run across the country? We’ll have an unlimited energy supply?”

“Well, _yes_ , I have plans to make us the most advanced civilisation of all Nine Realms, but that in itself won’t mean anything if the Casket is taken from us again, because we’ll be cast back into the Dark Ages. I want us to lay the foundation now for a better future; we build roads for if the trains cannot run, we work on planting trees for each we cut down for fuel, we build our hospital and schools into the mountain for protection. We start our new future today.”

“Said like a true politician,” muttered Byleistr.

“Questioned like a true cynic.”

A knock sounded from the door. Byleistr grunted, as he ran a hand over his face. He dominated the room much like their father, tall even for a Jotun, and the loin-cloth and leather skirts matched well with his thick vambraces. The etchings and markings about his skin were far less intricate than others of their race, but his eyes were a piercing red just like their father. They narrowed and fixed on Helblindi. A lingering silence fell between them, until the door knocked again, and Helblindi drew in a slow exhale and called out in a loud voice:

“You’re late, Loki.”

The door swung open, as Thor marched inside with Loki behind. A guard closed it behind them, while Loki swore and raced to a far corner shielded from the worst of the draught and snow, and – as he rubbed his hands rapidly together – small bursts of steam came with every breath. Thor stood centre of the room. He cricked his neck and rolled his shoulders, while the pale skin showed no sign of being affected by the cold. The smile on his lips failed to quite reach his eyes, as he looked from person to person, and his callused fingers toyed with Mjølnir on his belt.

“I apologise,” said Thor. “I insisted on taking a scenic route.”

“Oh? I never pictured _you_ as a rule-breaker.”

“Surely, you must understand.” Thor scratched at his neck. “Loki is my brother. If you were to be separated from Byleistr for six months, wouldn’t you want an extra few days of quality time with him? Once I return to Asgard, I’ll be unable to visit with the Bifrost still broken . . . I have no choice but to trust you with our greatest treasure: Loki. If anything were to happen to him –”

“I can assure you, Prince Thor, nothing untoward will happen to Loki.”

“You promised us a lot of things. You still tried to attempt regicide on our king as he slept.”

Helblindi blinked. He half-opened his mouth, while Byleistr burst out into laughter. The warm sound was infectious, enough that the smile returned to Helblindi, as he cocked his head upwards and walked slowly before Thor, and slowly he raked his eyes along that muscular frame. Thor did not take a step back. He did not even change his expression. He simply quirked a smirk, before he lowered his head and leaned into Helblindi’s personal space. They stood but a few inches apart, while the wind blew about them, and they locked eyes. Their gaze did not break.

“You, I like,” chirped Helblindi.

He spun around with a low chuckle. Helblindi returned to the table, while he hummed an old tune half to himself, and took a rolled scroll from the low wooden stool just to the side, before he returned to Thor and held the parchment between them. Thor took the scroll, but raised an eyebrow and stared cautiously downward. They both stood still in silence, even as Byleistr circled the room and Loki sat alone in the far corner, and Helblindi tapped at the parchment with a long index finger in a steady rhythm, until Thor unrolled the contents, and said:

“This is a time-table for Loki. Have him memorise its contents.”

“I’m sitting _right_ here,” spat Loki.

“Yes, and yet you refuse to look me in the eye.” Helblindi smiled. “How was I to know that you sought for my attention and to be directly addressed? I would never be so rude as to force conversation with one that looks so shy and timid and hides in the corners . . . unless that is _not_ the reason why you refuse to meet my gaze or greet me. It can’t be any other reason, can it?”

“What are you implying, Helblindi?”

“I am outright stating that you will _need_ to look at our people in the upcoming months. You will need to converse with them, spend time with them, and sometimes even serve them, for the role of a prince is to attend and help his people first and foremost. We are shepherds of a flock, and a shepherd does all that he can to keep his flock safe. You will not be above direct interaction.

“You will see that I have assigned you time with the healers, which will be used for therapy and physical examinations, and you will also be assessed to see if you require medication. I promised that no harm would come to you, as such I will make sure to endeavour that you are in perfect health, which means both mental health and physical health. You also have time assigned to study, where you will learn our language, laws, and history. This is non-negotiable.

“There are two days of free time each week, but the rest of the time will be spent directly with me or Byleistr, and your duties will vary according to the needs of our people. I have planned that you help rebuild the hospital and orphanage, but I would also like you to learn how to heal and tend to our children and elderly in the makeshift infirmary, starting from tomorrow.”

“Do you really think these tasks suitable for a prince?”

“My opinion is irrelevant. I would ask what _you_ think is suitable for a prince. Oh, I heard about how you had a guard flogged for being late with a message, and I know all about your pranks on the servants, scaring one to death with snakes crawling from his wine. My, what fun! Did that amuse you? If that is what it means to be a prince, maybe it is I who will learn from you.”

Loki jumped to his feet. He marched forward, until Thor stopped him with a thrown hand. It struck him hard in his chest, keeping him at some distance from Helblindi, but it did little to ease the contortions to his face that deepened the lines about his eyes and forehead. He looked so small in the presence of Byleistr, especially with the high ceilings towering over him and the bookcases looming over him at twice his height, and yet he held his position, even when the furs swamped him and made him look ever younger in the presences of ‘giants’. He spat out:

“How do you _know_ about those things?”

A low laugh was the only response. Helblindi raised his finger to his lips, before he made a shushing noise and spun around to face the table, and soon he strode back to the small stool, as he sat down and took to braiding his hair with a hummed tune. He bit his lip to hold back otherwise uncontrollable laughter; Loki fisted his hands until the skin tuned deathly white, while a vein throbbed at the corner of his eye, and Thor squeezed at his shoulder and shook his head. A low scoff escaped Loki. He yanked away and brought his hands before his face, as he paced and forced slow breaths, and Helblindi finished his plait and ended his tune.

“I heard about what you did for Ingvar,” said Helblindi. “Rest assured, I have brought his personal circumstances to the attention of the community, and the locals in that area will see to it that he is brought his fair share of rations and that his surviving father is put on the waiting list to see a healer. Sadly, his case does not count as ‘urgent’ to justify being seen to now.”

“And you have the nerve to criticise _my_ role as a prince?”

“I made no criticisms, Loki. I only made observations. Besides, do not forget that we lost many of our best healers when the hospital was destroyed, and our dying and wounded far outnumber our resources to tend to them at present. Sadly, three men in need of emergency surgery will always take priority over one who is unable to get out of bed each morning.”

“That one man is suffering and so his children suffer!”

“And why do you care whether a ‘monster’ suffers? Why do you care about just one man? Why is _this_ one man any different to any other man? Is it his face that makes him special? Is it that you learned his name? Is it that you spent last night in his house? Hmm, perhaps if you can humanise but _one_ monster, there is hope that you can humanise them all with time and effort.”

Loki pushed past Thor. He marched toward Helblindi, with enough speed that his cape billowed out behind him, and his green eyes were mere slits, as he raised a pointed finger that aimed itself straight for Helblindi and stopped only when it touched upon an aquiline nose. Byleistr dove towards them with digits on dagger. Helblindi lifted his hand. It stopped Byleistr in his tracks, which in turn stopped Thor who was fast behind, and Helblindi simply pushed away the finger with the back of his hand. He continued to smile, even as Loki curled his lip.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” said Loki. “I am not here by choice.”

“I’m quite aware,” replied Helblindi. “If you go out of the door to your left, Sigmundur will show you to your rooms. I trust that Thor will be staying for the first week or two? It may help make this transition period easier on you, and I wouldn’t begrudge you a familiar face.”

“Oh! That’s so _gracious_ of you, your majesty.”

“Wonderful, I’m so pleased you see it that way! You’re dismissed.”

This time Loki pounced. A pair of thick arms pre-empted the attack. They wrapped firmly around his upper arms and waist, swinging him around as if in a dance, and settled him just a few feet away from Helblindi, until Loki lunged once again. Thor grabbed him by his arm, before he dragged him in the direction of the doors. Loki struggled the entire way across the room, while spitting out insults and promises to have Helblindi’s head for such disrespect, and the guards opened the doors for them ready for Thor to shove Loki forcibly into the corridor beyond.

“I’ll help Loki to settle in,” said Thor.

Thor circled his hand around Loki’s upper arm. He dragged Loki toward Sigmundur, as the doors slammed shut behind them, and soon a loud argument erupted from the corridor, until the noise died down and a relative silence resumed. Helblindi dropped his shoulders, before he leaned against the table and brought his hand to his face. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose; Byleistr grabbed a stool and dragged it across the floor, where it screeched and scratched at the stone and snow, and he dropped it a mere foot before Helblindi and sat on its surface.

“That boy is going to be a handful,” muttered Byleistr.

“He’s barely over a thousand years old.” Helblindi dropped his hand on the table. “It’s a frustrating stage, isn’t it? He’s not a child, but not yet a man. I don’t suppose it’s been made any easier by everything he’s been through, especially with the upheaval of moving across the realms, and I think it should go without saying that we need to be patient with him.”

“So you tease him and provoke him? You know he has a complex.”

“You know a healer once said to me that the worst part about having a mental illness is that people expect you to behave as if you don’t, but . . . I always thought the worst part of having a mental illness is that people treat you as if you _do_. Odin walks on eggshells, hoping that babying him and wrapping in cotton wool will help, and I hear Thor has changed around him in turn.”

“That seems good to me. They love him. He’s family.”

“Yes, well, maybe what he needs is to be _treated_ like that. He needs them to tell them what he did was wrong, but without denying or withholding love as punishment. I don’t trust them not to get the balance right between ‘what you did was wrong and I condemn it’ and ‘what you did is wrong and I condemn you’. They have a warped view of love, for which I blame Bor and Buri.”

“They seem to love him unconditionally right now, but . . . I agree with you. That mother of his seems to think his mental illness excuses his behaviour and makes excuses for him, and I get the feeling Odin only overlooks this as it was an attack on us and not any other race.”

“Can you imagine if Loki wiped out a whole city on Midgard?”

“He’d probably be in the dungeons as we speak.”

Helblindi chuckled. It was a low and broken sound. Byleistr sat so close that their knees touched, and a rough hand was dropped onto his bare leg, where a familial squeeze turned into a gentle pat that was reminiscent of the displays of affection given by their father. Helblindi smiled, as he half-expected a nudge to his chin or a ruffle of his hair. A quirk of his eyebrow was enough for Byleistr to remove his hand, and a shake of his head was enough for Byleistr to smile in turn, as he spread he legs and turned to lean against the table. Byleistr asked with a roll of his hand:

“Do you think this is the best way to help him, though?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re kind of throwing him in at the deep end,” muttered Byleistr. “You can force tolerance, but you can’t force acceptance. It doesn’t matter how much he’s among us, not if he can’t learn to accept that he’s one of us, and he’s too self-loathing to do that . . . he hates himself. He thinks his family loathe him. He thinks he’s a victim. He wants attention.”

“I know he might be crying out for attention, but why not give it to him?” Helblindi sighed. “If someone is destructive in their quest for attention, it’s because they haven’t the words or means or coping mechanisms to ask in a less destructive manner. It would be cruel to deny him. We can always teach him how to communicate properly after we’ve tended to his needs.”

“Yeah, but what I mean is that he’s part Jotun. If I hated something about myself, I’d probably hate other people just like me, too, and it’s easy to say ‘accept them’, but I won’t be accepting them until I deal with my own issues first, you know? I don’t think Loki’s there yet.”

“So we focus on teaching him to accept himself first?”

“Then after to accept us, yes, but . . . you’re not the one to do that.”

Byleistr tilted his head toward Helblindi. The expression was passive, without any hint of a smile or frown, but those red eyes were heavy and half-lidded. The candlelight and low moonlight darkened his facial features, so that his eyes grew ever darker, and – as Helblindi looked away – a low scoff fell from Byleistr. He stood and walked towards the window, leaving Helblindi behind at the table with the map still strewn over its wooden surface, and he leaned against the window-frame with the leather vambrace protecting the skin of his forearm. He whispered:

“You can’t even accept yourself, Helblindi.”

The snow caught at the side of the window, as the wind changed direction. It was knocked aside with a rough hand, before Byleistr cursed and pulled out the last few of the glass shards, and soon they were tossed into the pile on the floor. Helblindi drew in a deep breath. He moved over to the remnants of a broken bookcase, one that previously stood just beneath the window before the blast, and took some of the large piece of its backboard, which he handed to Byleistr. They were soon expertly snapped into appropriate sizes and wedge into the frame. 

“That is not the same,” said Helblindi.

“Isn’t it?” Byleistr continued to block the hole. “Prejudice goes both ways, and our people have never fully accepted you. You don’t pass as Jotun as things stand. I doubt you’ve ever had a single friend among our people, and you know on a cognitive level that it’s not your fault, but sometimes I think emotionally you think it’s something in you . . . an intrinsic fault.”

“Will you really psychoanalyse me? Has it come to this?”

“All I’m saying is that if you want Loki to wear his skin proudly, he’s going to have to see all of us accepting of ourselves, like role-models or something . . . I don’t expect you to go out just flaunting your Asgardian side, but behind closed doors can’t you even just . . . I don’t know . . .”

“Waltz about as if I were one of them?”

“Do you realise how much you sound like Loki right now?”

Helblindi took in a deep hiss of breath. The smile on his lips was pressed into a thin line, while his eyes shone cold in the low-light with a twinkle from the flickering candles. He took the last of the broken boards, before he snapped it in half with just one hand, and jammed it into the final gap of the window without any assistance. He wiped the dust away from his hands, before he closed his eyes and muttered a familiar incantation. A wave of his hand finished the spell.

A tingling sensation swept over his skin, like static electricity that sent every hair on end. It followed with a feeling like ice water being poured over flesh, forcing the same sharp exhale, as he tensed and moved every muscle of his body as if caught in a dace. The blue skin slowly crept down his body, as pale white skin was exposed. There were no markings. There were no etchings on the flesh. There was only the smooth and flawless skin, with only the occasional mole or scar to break up the otherwise monotonous white, and Helblindi folded his arms across his chest.

The black hair remained the same, but the eyes grew green in nature. Helblindi tapped at the wooden boards upon the window, as they remained fixed in place and stopped the worst of the draught and snow, and he turned to Byleistr. Those eyes were no longer on his, but instead stared at his skin with a furrowed brow. Helblindi sighed and took the pointed chin in his hand, before he forced the gaze upward, and Byleistr knocked his hand away and uttered an apology. He stepped back.

“You can’t take your eyes off me,” joked Helblindi.

“Who could, Brother?” Byleistr teased.

“Well, it goes to show that I’m either just that handsome or just that hideous.” Helblindi spun around and bowed. “In any case, does the colour of my skin really affect the content of my words? I feel all you’re doing is distracting from the matter at hand, Byleistr.”

Byleistr scratched at his neck and shrugged, as he continued to stare at the pale white skin, with his eyes fixated on the moles unique to the Asgardian race in specific. Helblindi stepped forward and pushed him back with a finger to the forehead, before he spun once more with a second incantation. The blue skin returned. Byleistr rolled his eyes and dragged his feet back to the stool, but his gaze now fell on Helblindi’s eyes and not his legs or arms. Helblindi followed, taking a seat beside him, while Byleistr took a pen and scratched notes at various points of the map. Byleistr asked:

“Why do you hide it?”

“It’s not that I’m ashamed, but more that I find this gives me more power.” Helblindi smirked. “The other races underestimate me, when they see blue skin. Our race would never trust me, should they see white skin. A lot of people find being biracial a hindrance, and it does have its disadvantages, but I do love to use people’s prejudices against them. It’s useful.”

“Now _that_ is something Loki might respond to,” said Byleistr.

“Like something to bond over? Our love of politics and game-play?”

“It’s something, especially if you’re hoping to rehabilitate him, but about that . . . shouldn’t rehabilitation and punishment go hand in hand? You’re giving him the carrot right now, but what about the stick? Where’s his deterrent when he goes back to Asgard not to do all this again?”

“He wasn’t in his right mind, Byleistr.”

“No, but how do we know he wouldn’t have done the same in his right mind?”

Byleistr spun around on his stool. He braced his weight upon his hands, which clutched at the edge of the seat, and leaned forward further into Helblindi’s personal space, where his red eyes half-closed with a squint. He jerked his head towards the door, where the pair of guards continued to stand at perfect attention and stared forward without any expression. It was quiet in the corridor beyond. Loki was long-gone, but no doubt there would be arguments later when he realised the royal quarters were long destroyed and the servants quarters were to be shared.

“Let us leave it to the healers to decipher whether he still poses a threat,” said Helblindi.

“And if they make a mistake then we all suffer.”

“Brother, who was it that foresaw the attack?” Helblindi smiled. “I am not blind to the motivations and machinations of others, and I was studying political theory with my governess while you were trying to sneak out of the palace for drinking contests. Do I need to remind you that we would not be in this mess had Father listened to my advice?”

“That was then and this is now.”

“That was a week ago, Byleistr! Look, whose plan was it to evacuate Útgarðar? Who recognised that Loki was a threat and wanted him arrested, while we negotiated directly with Odin Borson instead of attempting _regicide_ on him? If I am to be the king that Jotunheim needs, I will need you to trust me in a way that Father always failed. I won’t let Loki hurt us again.”

“Yes, but you know that’s not the only thing.” Byleistr ran a hand over his face. “The people will expect you to provide an heir, or at least to name an heir, and you seem rather intent on _not_ putting yourself in any situation that could possibly lead to an heir. It’ll eventually be an issue.”

“I’ll adopt or you can be king. I’d be all for you.”

“You would?”

“Of course, I can be your advisor and rule from behind the scenes.”

Byleistr threw back his head and laughed. It jerked his muscular chest in a fast rhythm, as his hand slapped at the tabletop and caused the paper map to tear on the far corner, and he stood up to march over to the boarded window, where stray snowflakes broke through the gaps in the wood. The world beyond was hidden from sight. He still looked forward as if he would see through the boards, and his fingers came to stroke at the smooth and varnished wood, before they trailed down and dropped limply at his side. Byleistr turned to Helblindi and whispered:

“You’re incorrigible.”

“The fact remains that the peace treaty is all signed.” Helblindi hummed. “We merely need to plan extensively for when the Casket is returned, as well as to rebuild and create a solid foundation for our society in the meantime . . . I also want to disperse the populous further.”

“Why would -? Ah, this is going to be an all night discussion, isn’t it?”

“I have a meeting with the elders tomorrow. I want to get a head start on the creation of a parliamentary system, with representational voting by the people, and we need to heavily focus on our agricultural system in order to better support our people during this time of crisis, especially when trading is – I’m sorry, am I boring you? You look fatigued.”

Byleistr leaned against the windowsill. He pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand, while the smile on his lips failed to quite reach his eyes, and – when he turned – he threw up his hands in a gesture of mock surrender, before pointing to a portrait on the wall opposite. Helblindi did not follow his pointed gesture. The image of Byleistr with Agnar would remain the same, as would the smile that painted Helblindi’s lips, as he tilted his head and looked all-too-innocently towards Byleistr. He pushed back a stray lock of black hair, as Byleistr asked:

“Am I going to be here all night? I have a husband and sons at home.”

“Would you like me to send word that you’ll be late?”

“That’s not what I –”

A low sigh fell from Byleistr, but it soon turned into a heavy groan. He threw back his head and ran his hands over his face, as he dragged his feet back towards the table, and he threw himself inelegantly onto the stool, before sprawling his arms out across the map. A thud followed, as he dropped his head onto his forearm and half-closed his eyes with a muttered curse. Helblindi laughed. He patted Byleistr on his back, while Byleistr could only whine out:

“Tell me what you need, Brother.”

“Oh, good! I thought you’d never ask . . .”


	4. Part 1

The cool waters trickled over her limbs. They caught at the soft light from the open doorway, where her skin transformed into pure ivory, and her long locks – streaked with a few stray strands of white – cascaded down her arched back, curls dampened from the moisture. The years had been kind to Frigga, enough that he once commented that she ‘aged like a fine wine’, but her laughter reminded him that flirtations were not his strong suit. Odin smiled.

A few scars marred her skin, along with several stretch-marks. The swell to her breasts was lower than in her youth, while veins were prominent on parts of her body, and in particular her neck and hands spoke of someone with vast life experience. Each time she lifted the decorated cup of water above her head, she would sing an old tune that she once sang to the boys when she bathed them as children; he half-closed his eyes to remember how they splashed at each other. Time moved so rapidly, but still the lyrics remained fixed in his mind.

Odin leaned against the doorway. The white nightshirt clung to his skin with sweat, as the sheets on the bed behind him lay tangled and messed on one side. There was a heavy fog about his head, which made his vision hazier with the mist that billowed out from the _en suite_ , and – just as turned with breath still panted – Frigga called out to him in her usual melodic voice. It was enough to pull him back with a smile, as she turned on her small stool and asked:

“Another bad dream, my love?” 

He ran a callused and wrinkled hand over his face. The bend to his arm brought a burning pain, as the joints creaked even with such a minimal gesture, and he slowly pushed himself into the _en suite_ , where he walked with slow and steady steps. He chanced a look down her form. It nearly took him off his balance, but still – even after all those years – the small thatch of blonde curls made him blush . . . Frigga laughed and parted her legs, before she crossed them again. He coughed into his hand and turned his head away, so as to hide the flush that covered him from head to toe. He mumbled a few incoherent words, while he gesticulated to abstract thoughts.

“You are lucky I know you so well,” said Frigga.

“Aye? Why is that?”

“No one else would be able to understand you.” Frigga rose. “You stutter and mumble and trip over your words like a toddler learning to walk for the first time, and all because the naked body of your wife makes you just as nervous as the day we first made love. Do you still find me beautiful? I swear, each time you look at me, the adoration only ever rises.”

He chuckled, as he opened wide his arms. Frigga stood and stepped into his embrace. The soft hands toyed with the hem of his nightshirt, while her warm body warmed his cold flesh, and her smooth cheeks pressed themselves into the crook of his neck, while he buried his face into her still damp hair. It carried with it the scent of honey and something floral . . . he would hazard a guess at lavender, but she would always chastise that he still failed to recognise her signature scent after all these years. He pressed a kiss to her head, as she whispered to him:

“Why are you having bad dreams?”

Odin hummed long and low, while he pulled back just enough to catch her gaze. The blue eyes were soft and sincere, but also still sharp and not cloudy as was his remaining eye, and he took a thick towel from the side and wrapped it around her body, with only a brief pause to stare at her chest until she lightly slapped his cheek with feigned shock. Frigga tied the towel and pulled out her long locks of hair, before taking his hand and guiding him into the bedroom. He sat on the _chaise longue_ while she remade the bed, still singing those old songs to him.

“I feel that I failed our son,” muttered Odin.

“You mean Loki,” said Frigga.

“If I had been honest with him on the bridge -?” Odin shook his head. “I could _see_ it in his eyes, my sweet; he would have fallen . . . _he would have fallen_! I could have lost our son to the abyss, and not even just because of that one moment. No. It would have been the result of a _lifetime_ of bad teachings and bad parenting; I alone made him hate the Jotuns, in turn hating himself.”

“Oh, Odin. It is no good to think of what could have been . . . what paths lay without having been tread, how our lives may have diverged . . . I have heard it said there are hundreds – _thousands_ – of worlds out there, but we don’t live in those worlds, my love. We live here and now.”

“If he had fallen? He knows pathways to other worlds that even I have yet to uncover, and his sorcery may even be stronger than yours . . . would he have died? I don’t know whether his intent was to die or not, but if he’d survived . . . _if_ he slipped into some other world . . . who would have taken advantage of him in his mental state? What could have become of him? I – I fear that I could have been forced to toss him into the dungeons to be forgotten.”

“For his sake or for the sake of Asgard?”

Frigga smoothed out the sheets. He remained silent, as her question lingered between them. The only sound was his whistling breath that betrayed his frailty, while Frigga came around the bed to her side and dropped her towel, and – as his eyes slowly ran over her hourglass figure – Frigga waved her hands with a silent spell to dry her hair. It curled to perfection. The mattress dipped, as she climbed beneath the sheets. They silhouetted her frame to a tantalising degree.

He took a slow step forward, with the floor cold beneath his feet. Each footstep brought a slapping sound, as skin met tiles, and he swayed while he walked without shoes or slippers able to properly purchase at the ground. Odin sat at the edge of the mattress. A long sigh escaped his lips, as his limbs finally were able to rest and his shoulders dropped. The gentle hand of Frigga reached towards him, where it rubbed circles against his back, and soon she came to sit behind him, with her legs stretched out on his either side. Frigga whispered into his ear:

“Loki understands that Asgard must come first.”

“Does he?” Odin scoffed. “If he understood that, he would not have done what he did.”

“And what did he do? It seems to me his actions were for Asgard, albeit rather . . . misguided. After all, did he not take out Laufey and seek to destroy Jotunheim? I’m just saying that while he has much to learn and much to process, he can’t possibly hate you for the choices you make, as he would – and has – made those difficult choices himself. He understands sacrifice.”

“Do you know what he said to me, my dear? He said: ‘I did it for you’. If he were motivated by political power or the desire to protect his people, that I could understand, but he did this all for me . . . to win my favour . . . I failed him as a father, Frigga. Does not a child come first?”

“Not to a king. The lives of our people must trump that of all else.”

“Oh, do not try to placate me with white-lies. It doesn’t suit you! You know that you would break the laws in an instant for those boys, and you’d sacrifice our people in an instant to protect them, because you would always put them first. They will always be your babies.”

“Then you don’t know me as well as you think . . . Thor, either. You and Loki underestimate him, just as you underestimate me, and for you both it is always ‘all or nothing’, ‘black and white’, but sometimes there is a grey area . . . sometimes it isn’t ‘either/or’. You put your people before your sons, just as Loki put his family before his people. See things from a new perspective.”

The hands massaged against his shoulders. They worked their way with great expertise into his knots and old scars, so that his head rolled back and forth, and low groans fell from his mouth without his consent, as his eyes half-lidded to her touch. The press of her breasts to his back reminded him of where this could lead, but the edge to her voice was at odds with the intimacy that was offered by her body . . . _a warning mixed in with the promise_. He took her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm, while his eyes watered and distorted his vision.

“I just want Loki to feel loved,” said Odin. “How do I do that without sacrificing what I have always been taught and without abandoning my ethics? I cannot pardon the actions of a criminal, and yet I cannot condemn the son that needs my help. What compromise is to be had?”

“I’m sure you can think of one thing to make Loki feel loved . . .”

“I can think of many things, but I cannot be seen to –”

“I mean to say, there is _something_ that you can do to make Loki feel loved _and_ to appease to Jotun people, and if there is anyone creative and intelligent enough to connect the dots and to find such a perfect solution to his current dilemma -? Loki craves your approval, but more than that he craves a place in which he can feel he belongs. That’s all he ever wanted.”

Odin blinked. He opened his mouth and closed it again. Frigga kissed his cheek, before she slid back to her side of the bed, and – as she stretched out – he caught the quiet words: _‘have you never wished to truly belong, to be accepted, to be yourself?’_ A low laugh echoed about the bedroom, while he raised an aged and weak hand before his face. A tear ran down his cheek. It was salty and warm upon his lip, as he shook his head and observed white skin marred with age-spots and scars and wrinkles deep . . . like his father when he was young. Odin choked:

“My time is short . . .”

“All the more reason to make the most of your time.”

“I know that Odinsleep was my last.” Odin sighed. “I perhaps have a decade left at most before I leave this world, and – when I do – I wish to leave with my sons _knowing_ how much that I loved them and adored them. If I could not do that before, let me do that now.”

He lay back down against the cool sheets. He extended a hand upward, as if in reach of the ceiling, but his trembling fingers lay just out of reach of those intricately decorated beams, while he tried to force images of his dying father from his mind . . . how old age always seemed an eternity away when he was so young . . . Frigga took his hand. It was lowered between them, where she entwined their fingers and stroked her thumb along his palm. He rolled onto his side, and dropped his other hand over hers, and stared into her eyes as she swore to him:

“I know you will do what is right for everyone.”

The tears threatened to spill afresh. Frigga scooted towards him. A soft kiss was pressed to his lips, as they shared in a breath and a single moment, and he slid his fingers from her hand and along her curves and to her neck, where he stroked against her cheek. The kiss was broken, but the look in her eyes made the tears a reality. He laughed and kissed her again . . . over and over . . . until they were locked in a warm embrace, and he could only choke out:

“What would I do without you, my queen?”

“Let us pray you never have to find out,” teased Frigga.


	5. Part 1

“Loki? Loki, stop!”

The empty hall amplified Thor’s words. They echoed about the huge stone walls in an eerie manner, with the reverberations only a few milliseconds out of perfect synchronicity, and the few guards on either ends of the hall stopped in the patrolling route, where they turned in their direction. A long shadow was cast from those at the main entrance, which were illuminated by the lanterns beyond that hung from the stone walls. The ‘old’ palace was nothing like the ‘new’.

A pile of salvaged statues and antiques filled the left side of the hall, while the right side was lined with an assortment boxes and containers, and the lack of windows only added to the darkness, with the sole light source from the hallway extending the shadows eerily outward. The snow blew in from the main doors behind them, where it danced about the stone tiles and cast a white walkway some distance behind him, before it finally melted into a slippery surface. He sprinted forward the last of the hallway, before he snatched at a thin wrist and shouted:

“Loki, look at me!”

Loki spun around. He snatched back his hand. The green eyes were bloodshot, while the cheeks were sunken and prominent, and his skin was paler now than before . . . _‘jerked meats and raw vegetables are not to my liking’, ‘who would sleep with mattresses made of straw?’, ‘the nights are far too long and the days far too short’ ._ . . Thor winced. He ran his hands over his bearded face, before he stepped back and lifted them high in mock surrender. The draught caught at his cape, sending it forward to brush against the leather on Loki’s legs, and Loki kicked it aside.

The silence between them was broken by a drip in the distance. A guard coughed at the far end of the hallway, where they stood by the doors that marked the way to the interior of the old palace, and Loki turned his head to look over his shoulder. There was a flare to his nostrils, while his hand drummed its fingers against his thigh. Thor reached again. Loki swatted away the hand and shook his head, before he finally turned to Thor and leaned forward.

“Why are you still here, Thor?” Loki stepped back. “You’ve done your job. You have hand-delivered a monster into the lair of other monsters, where he may rot away to be forgotten by the people who raised him. Well done. I do hope that you remember to write.”

“I thought you were past this ‘monster’ talk.”

“I – I will acknowledge that they are a more complex race than I envisioned. Did you know that they have their own form of art here? I have seen beautiful paintings strewn across the cave interiors, and I have seen ice sculptures and etchings on stone and intricate tattoos on flesh. I even heard a boy play a set of drums made with animal skin and bones. It was fascinating.

“They have _heart_. Helblindi has me tend to the children, as I learn to heal, and while I think it is a waste for one who is a master of magic –?” Loki huffed. “The children talk to me. They have grand ambitions of being doctors or teachers or warriors . . . one wishes to be a prince, which he tells me with smiles and stories of legendary ancestors. I – I look to them and I see a part of us . . . we used to laugh like them, paint like them, argue like them . . .

“So why do we hate them? I was always teased and mocked for being an _ergi_ , all because I learned _seidr_ and I almost related to the Jotuns for a while, but . . . no one says to their children: ‘be good or else the _ergi_ will take you away’. Father told us of the Jotuns’ cruelty, their barbaric customs, their bloodthirsty wars . . . he taught us what our people taught their children . . .”

“Maybe Father was wrong.”

“Look at me, Thor!” Loki shook his head. “Maybe he was _right_.”

The words echoed. Loki stabbed at his chest, with his fingers thumping at the leather of his vest, and – with a scoff and tear-stained eyes – he threw himself into one of the pews strewed about the centre of the hall. They would have once lined either side like a temple or church, and perhaps they still did in recent years, but now they were piled chaotically and haphazardly to make way for the array of items coming in and out of the old palace. He draped his arms over the back, while he parted his legs in an inelegant manner. The wind roared outside.

A few servants would occasionally enter to remove the items on the left, while others would race to place more items on the right, and – despite the in and out of movement – no one paid them any mind, just as no one took the boxes any deeper into the internal structure. Thor came around and leaned against the back of one pew, where his hands grasped against the wood. He looked down at Loki, who sprawled against the pew with his head lolled backwards.

“You should go,” whispered Loki.

“I wish to stay,” said Thor. “You’re my brother.”

“You are aware this isn’t just a month of troubles, right?” Loki laughed. “This is a _lifetime_ of trauma brewing to the surface, and it all came to a head when I learned of my true nature. If you hadn’t been such a twit, and if I hadn’t needed to stop the coronation at all costs, and if you weren’t such a blasted idiot and stormed Jotunheim -! Well, I would _still_ be a mess inside.”

“You never showed any sign of depression before, Brother.”

“Didn’t I? I hardly tried to hide it.”

“You – You _laughed_ with us and camped with us and fought with us. I remember your ridiculous pranks, like the time you cut off Sif’s hair or projected the form of a snake or that time you forced me into that wedding dress . . . your scheming adventures were often the most fun. We always had the best stories to tell afterward. The gang _loved_ you!”

“They endured me as a tagalong, because I was the brother of their best friend.” Loki huffed and pointed a finger directly toward Thor. “Did you _really_ not pick up on their little digs? That day we went to Jotunheim, Volstagg mocked my silver tongue having turned to lead. The day after you were exiled, Sif and Hogun assumed I’d stolen the throne given to me by Mother. Damn it, Thor, even _you_ told me to ‘know my place’! Well, what _is_ my place? Is it here, among the people who abandoned me, or there, with the people who fear me?”

“Your place is among your family, Loki . . . among _us_.” Thor slapped the hand away. “Will you get that hand away from me? I won’t have you pointing an accusatory finger! If we made you feel anything less than special, that was our fault and ours alone. Why didn’t you tell us? Why did you hide it inside you and wait for your insecurities to reach breaking point? Why?”

“Would you have cared?”

“I care more than I can ever express, Brother.”

“Now you care, maybe, but would you have cared _then_? You would have laughed and told me how stupid I was acting, or accused me of trying to guilt you over something or other, and I would have felt remorse on top of shame and worthlessness, because _I_ had made my brother feel like he was the cause of my pain. It would have just compounded matters. It wasn’t worth it.”

“It couldn’t have resulted in anything worse than the act of genocide.”

Thor sighed, as he slid beside Loki onto the wooden pew. They sat side-by-side, with their knees touching just enough that the heat was felt through the thick materials, and Loki – with a soft scoff – nudged him with his knee. Thor nudged him back. The faint smile that broke over Loki’s lips added lines to the corners of his eyes, which brightened even in the darkness when Thor dropped a hand onto the back of his neck. He stroked at the smooth skin. A low hum fell from those plump lips, as Loki half-turned his head, and the silence was broken by a whispered:

“ _Attempted_ genocide.”

A loud laugh broke from Thor, echoing about the room. He quickly closed his mouth when a servant looked his way, with a scowl saying that they heard the ‘joke’, and the chuckle soon died in his throat and was replaced by a muttered apology. Loki blushed and winced. He waved to the servant, who let loose a hiss of breath and grabbed at one of the statues and marched back out into the wilderness of Útgarðar. Thor toyed with a stray lock of black hair, which was far longer than the once slicked back style of the previous month, and he twisted it in his fingers.

“We need family therapy,” whispered Thor.

“Hmm, Helblindi and Mother agree.” Loki rolled his eyes. “They have arranged a regular time each week for me to talk to you via astral projection, along with Mother and Father, and they insist that we discuss how we feel and who made us feel that way and why they made us feel that way. I said it was sentimental drivel. They laughed and said Father said the same.”

“You two have always been peas in a pod.”

“Well, he is my biological uncle; I suppose it natural we have a lot in common, especially when he raised me and taught me and disciplined me . . . but did he love me? He took me for a purpose, Thor. He said he wanted to unite these two realms! Did he mean to marry us off to one another? Did he mean to raise me Asgardian and send me in Jotun form as a spy here? _Why_ did he –”

“Have you asked him yourself?”

“I’m scared of the answer, and he insists it is unimportant. He says all that matters is that he knew that he loved me from the minute he held me, and he never considered me anything other than his son. He says that his plans fell flat and my purpose shifted. If that is the case, it couldn’t have been an unconditional love. Why lie to me, else? Why change the colour of my skin?”

Thor threw back his head. The ceiling of the old palace was engraved with a mural, much like the painted ceilings of their Asgardian throne room, and there was a story told of mutual joy and love and appreciation between two realms, until the day of a war that caused an irrevocable split and resulted in the deaths of millions. Loki followed his gaze. He slid a hand onto Thor’s upper thigh and squeezed, with the warmth of his hand drawing out a low hum from Thor. Loki pursed his lips and quirked his head to the side, adding shadows about his features. Thor asked:

“Bestla was a Jotun, right?”

“What of it?”

“I wonder if Odin was like you,” said Thor. “Helblindi showed you the old paintings, didn’t he? I think only a few survived, as the explosion took out a lot of the palace, but Fárbauti looks _just_ like you in your Asgardian form. The history books here say that Bestla took the Asgardian child when she was forced into exile, as an act of revenge, leaving Bor with the Jotun child.”

“You shouldn’t pay attention to heedless rumours, especially ones from a ‘history’ written by the losing side in a racist war . . . they would claim anything to besmirch the reputation of our grandfather and our people. You’ll only upset Father by spouting such nonsense.”

“And what if it’s true?”

A cough echoed out from the doors to the interior. Loki quickly pulled back his hand, as he clasped it in his lap and folded his legs, but Thor slid closer and stopped only when their legs pressed against one another. He draped his arm around those broad shoulders, while he forced a smile and looked ahead to the figure silhouetted in the doorway. The figure smiled back. A tension struck at Loki’s muscles, as he folded his arms and hissed at Thor to move away, but Thor held ever tighter and straightened his back. He locked eyes with the intruder.

Helblindi simply laughed. It was gentle and warm, enough that it drew all attention. The guards quickly turned their gazes away, as disinterested as Loki beside him, but Thor – scratching at his nose to hide the surreptitious stares – raked his eyes over that slim form. Helblindi wore a rough tunic, one that could have easily belonged to any of his people, and clutched a stack of books to his chest, as he sauntered towards them with head held high, and asked in a loud voice:

“Do you do nothing but gossip?”

He stopped a few feet from them, where he stacked his books onto a pew. They were leather-bound and inscribed with an Asgardian script, and the age was enough that the images inside failed to move as Helblindi flicked through the pages of the first. Thor slowly slid away his arm from Loki’s shoulders, as he dropped his forearms onto his legs and leaned forward. He reached over the pew in front for a book. Helblindi coughed. He rolled his eyes and looked to Loki, who simply shrugged and rolled his eyes back, and Thor pulled back his hand with a sigh.

“They’re merely rumours,” said Thor. “It is a harmless act.”

“There is a lot to be said about rumours,” replied Helblindi. “If I were to listen to rumours, I would believe you to be in love with a mere mortal . . . a Jane Foster, I believe? Now, how much of that is based in reality? A little birdie tells me that you were with her when Loki sent the Destroyer, but _why_ would her presence trigger such a violent response from Loki, hmm?”

“What are you implying, Helblindi?”

“I’m implying nothing, but I am asking if I interrupted something just now.”

Thor quickly stood. He opened his mouth to speak, but Loki shot him a dark glare. The implication was clear: ‘I told you so’. Thor threw his hands upward and shrugged, before he paced back and forth between the pews and kicked at the dirt, while Helblindi simply separated the books into two equal and identical piles. He hummed an old tune, something familiar and yet with a strange interpretive edge, as if a lullaby had been warped into a more contemporary rhythm. Thor stepped back into the main walkway and asked in a low voice:

“What do you want, Helblindi?”

Helblindi hummed again, as his finger traced the letters on the topmost book. The gold and embossed font indicated a joint history, and a shared lineage between Jotunheim and Asgard, but the title was soon hidden by a folder thrown atop by Helblindi. Thor reached to slide it away, but Helblindi scooped up the books and moved them over to one of the columns that lined either side of the walkway, and – as Thor made his way towards them – Helblindi conveniently stood in his way to ‘survey’ the boxes and containers to the right side. There was a sparkle to his blue eyes.

“You know, Byleistr mocked me for converting the palace into a hospital,” said Helblindi. “I still think it a rather good idea, considering that half of the building survived to perfection, and it means – in any future state of emergency – our most infirm will be most protected. It’ll also be a _lot_ easier to rebuild half of a building than to build a new hospital from scratch, wouldn’t you say? I half-expected Loki to be there, considering he’s meant to stick to his timetable.”

“You have moved us into this – this – this _dump_ ,” spat Loki. “What kind of king lives inside a mountain? How is this any more secure than an outdoor building? If my room isn’t one on the outmost side with a window, I shall be contacting my father to complain.”

“I think your father would be happier that you’re now located in the most secure place in the whole of Jotunheim, especially as you’ve likely noticed that this place is completely unharmed in the aftermath of the attack. We were using it as a museum, but I’ll have the public pieces moved to a new location and we’ll repurpose this into a political base and royal abode.”

“Is this ‘musical chairs’ for homes? Isn’t this the worst time to move things from place to place, especially when resources are slim and men are scarce? How do you justify that? I thought your people came first, but here you are securing yourself a new home . . . albeit a second-hand one.”

“Are you trying to goad me with insults about this palace?” Helblindi smiled.

“Are you trying to change topic to distract me?”

“In part, I’ll confess,” laughed Helblindi. “Still, are my attempts at changing topic any less subtle that your attempts to start an argument to detract from your own issues with Thor? He has been here for a month now, and – frankly – it’s about time he left. He’s overstayed his welcome, and I don’t think your mental health is going to progress further in recovery with him present.”

Thor stormed towards Helblindi. The halberds of the guards were lifted, as those at the doors stood at full attention, and several guards lined the perimeter, although Thor failed to notice any exit or entrance points where they would have made their appearance. He stopped short a few feet of Helblindi, who purposely raised his hand to ‘count’ at boxes without any acknowledgement of Thor, and Thor wrung his hands and let loose a hiss of breath. Helblindi stopped, made an ‘oh’ sound, and turned with an all too innocent smile to face him.

“You’re talking about me as if I’m not here,” said Thor.

“In one more day, you won’t be . . .”

Helblindi reached out with his forefinger. He pushed at Thor’s forehead, before he walked towards the main doors that led to the outside courtyard. A strong scent whipped past Thor; it was something akin to cologne, but with a uniquely Jotun scent, and the hem of Helblindi’s long tunic billowed out behind him as he strode down the walkway. Thor snatched at his wrist. The guards lunged towards them, but a simple lift of a finger from Helblindi kept them at a distance, and instead he turned with a dangerous smile and stepped into Thor’s personal space.

“If you wouldn’t mind, we have a lot of work to be done.” Helblindi slid away his hand. “We still need to move out the museum pieces, as well as move in our personal possessions, and I have some books that I wish to be sent to the Allfather, with some for Loki to research.”

“I won’t leave until I know Loki will be okay.”

“Oh? I suppose I ought to set up a permanent bedroom for you, in that case.” Helblindi sighed. “I hope you’re not expecting promises and assurances that Loki will be ‘fine’. The road to recovery is a long and arduous journey, which takes years in some cases, and – for a few – there is never a moment in which they are ‘fully healed’, but instead a state in which they can cope and endure.”

“You know what I mean, Helblindi. Do not take me for a fool.”

“If you were a fool, I would have easily have manipulated into leaving several weeks ago. No, I am well aware that you’re no fool, even if you have been foolish in the past, and I can see that there is the spark of a magnificent ruler inside of you. You can truly be the perfect mixture of Frigga and Odin in time, and that is indeed a compliment, as – without Frigga – Odin may still have been the warmonger and colonist that the Nine Realms feared and never respected.

“That being said, before you thought too much of yourself and your pride, and now you are thinking too much of Loki and your familial bond. Tell me, at what point will you think about your _people_? This truce relies on Loki being here, as well as the return of our Casket, and in return Jotunheim will be under ‘new management’ as it were, so Asgard can sleep sound.”

“I once wanted to rule,” whispered Thor. “I now long for a life of my own, where I can continue to grow and evolve and learn as a person, but life doesn’t work that way, does it? I know my place. I know my duty. I must put my people first and foremost, even if it means sacrificing my own wants and needs in the process, but your mistake is thinking that I stay with Loki for my own selfish desire to be with my beloved brother. That isn’t the case, Helblindi.”

“Oh? Tell me, why do you stay, then?”

“I stay as Loki is an Asgardian. He is also one of our people.”

A brief smile flickered across Loki’s features. He quickly turned his head and rested his elbow on the back of the pew, so that he could fist his hand and rub his knuckles across his lips to hide the expression, but Helblindi cast his blue eyes subtly toward Loki. There was as a telling flare to his nostrils, before he slowly raked his eyes from the bottom of Thor’s boots to the very upmost stray hair on Thor’s head. The usual smirk returned, as Helblindi stepped back into his personal space, until they were nearly chest-to-chest, and Loki shot his head towards them with a glare.

“I knew I liked you,” chirped Helblindi.

“If I leave Loki, I need you to know this: I will watch over him.” Thor stepped back. “If Loki is a master of magic, it is only because our mother taught him all that he knows, and Heimdall has enough _seidr_ that there is nowhere his eye cannot lay witness. If Loki so much as receives a paper-cut, I will make sure that war will be waged like nothing you have ever seen.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less, as I would be in clear breach of the treaty.”

“Loki is only just opening up about his issues. He needs to be on Asgard, where we can work through the source of his pain, and where we can help heal him. If he is to spend another five months year, then six months of every year after, I need to be sure you won’t hurt him.”

“Are you sure _you’re_ not the one hurting Loki, hmm, Cousin?”

“What is that meant to mean, Helblindi?”

Helblindi sighed. The smiled faded, as he turned his back on Thor. He clasped his hands behind his back, before he slowly walked away from them both, but he stopped just far enough ahead that his voice could be heard, but just enough that they would need to strain to listen. He kept his back to them, even as Loki stood and moved to Thor’s side. A strange silence passed through the hall, where the only noise was the previous dripping of water, and Thor placed a hand on Loki’s shoulder, before he stepped towards Helblindi and let his hand fall away.

“It seems to me that your being here places more demands on Loki,” said Helblindi. “It provides a pressure to recover, while also forcing on him one of the said sources of his issues, and sometimes what we require is . . . _distance_. If Loki is to process his emotions, I would argue that it is necessary for him to have space to know what he thinks and feels and wants. How can he see the reality of his situation when he is so wrapped up in a co-dependent and dysfunctional unit?

“It’s easy to normalise what has become ‘normal’ to you, especially when you have no exposure to other family units and couples, and – being a royal prince – I doubt he was one for sleepovers and field trips and able to see how things _should_ be among the chaos of his personal bubble. If he felt his situation abnormal, I doubt he would have internalised so much until he finally snapped.”

“So you admit that you plan to turn him against us?”

“My, do you always project your own insecurities like that? I suppose it makes sense that Loki wouldn’t be the only one with issues, considering that you both share the same parents, and yet do you think an attitude like that would help him? You twist my words and make me into the villain, simply as I present a mirror to you with which to see your true self. Interesting.”

Thor jerked forward, but Loki grabbed at the crook of his elbow. The two shared a long and hard look, until Loki gave a subtle nod and turned to stand before Thor, and – with eyes locked together – he walked slowly backwards to where Helblindi stood. It was an uncanny resemblance between the two, but the difference in their expressions was stark and telling . . . there was a harshness to Loki’s eyes, even when he smiled, and a sadness to his mouth, even when he laughed, and with Helblindi there seemed a genuine softness to every expression, even a frown.

“You almost remind me of Loki,” muttered Thor.

“Oh? What separates us?”

“I know his motivations for his reliance on rhetoric and Machiavellian manipulations, but – for the life of me – I have yet to figure you out. Loki is honest in his motivations, such as when he sought to deprive me of the throne, but you . . . you are a mystery.”

“And yet the only thing I have to hide is that I have nothing to hide.”

Helblindi turned and raised his hands. He bowed with the usual smirk, but there was no hint of anger or sorrow or anything aside from amusement . . . somehow it was much worse. Thor fisted his hands until the leather creaked and his knuckles turned white, before he cricked his neck and narrowed his eyes, and yet – as he took in slow and deep breaths – Loki simply looked him over, before he walked away . . . _he walked away_. The doors opened. Loki went towards them.

Thor sprinted after him, but a strong hand shot outward. Helblindi held him in place with a mere touch, enough that there was clear strength in those muscles despite his slight frame, but there was also enough pressure to indicate that the display of strength was just that: a display. In a fight against the strongest warriors of either realm, this was a man that would not have the power to push back one man, let alone a legion. Thor stepped back. He frowned and glared at the hand, as if it had all the power in the world. In response, Helblindi brightened in his expression.

“I do not want to leave Loki,” said Thor.

“Look at the progress he’s made in a month,” chirped Helblindi. “He’s actually expressing how he feels and why, and he’s starting to acknowledge that we have a complex culture, one comparable to Asgard itself. There’s a long way to go . . . _a very long way_ . . . but how much pain built up over a millennium and how much has been eased in a month?”

“We can help him, too. We’re his family . . . he needs us.”

“No, you _want_ to help him. _You_ need him.” Helblindi shook his head. “You have seen his schedule, and you know he has access to healers and therapists, and you know that he has been kept busy by learning about our culture and meeting our people. What worries you?”

“We have never been apart in over a thousand years!”

“Maybe that’s a part of the problem.”

Helblindi waved a hand to the pile of books. A servant swept by and took them in arm, before another two gathered bags of treasures and Thor’s rucksack, and together they marched in perfect unison out of the doors, while Helblindi indicated the ‘pick-up spot’ in a local dialect that was hard to decipher. The hint was more a direct invitation. The doors were left open. A gust of snow burst through into the hall, forcing Thor to lift his arm to shield his eyes, and there – just beyond – the whole of Útgarðar lay in a state of construction and chaos. Helblindi whispered:

“Let Loki learn who he is when he’s not with you, Thor.”

“You make it sound like he’s defined by me.”

“I think you live eternally comparing yourselves to one another, yes.”

Thor opened his mouth, but Helblindi ordered:

“Go home, Thor.”

Helblindi turned. He cast a lingering look over his shoulder, with the smile now replaced by a telling frown, and his hand waved in a half-defeated and half-mocking manner, as he walked slowly and steadily out of the still open doors. Thor spun around, but the guards blocked the doors to the interior of the palace. They aimed their weapons in his direction. There was only one exit, and all his possessions – and gifts to the Allfather – were being escorted to a stray spot far outside of the city limits. He lowered his head and breathed deep.

Each step echoed. The servants and guards stared in his direction, with their eyes following his every movement, and he marched with lowered gaze out into the courtyard, with the towering mountain casting a long shadow about the snowy space. No sooner did his feet touch the top steps did the doors slam shut behind him. It was a clear message. Thor shook his head with a broken laugh, as he marched down the steps with a loosened grip. One thing was clear:

He was alone.

* * *

_Sif rose from her seat on the low wall. The warm sun caught at her skin and provided a soft glow, as she waited with hand over her heart, and Fandral stood beside her with a matching pose, as he gave a quick bow and darted towards Thor. They smiled and laughed, while Hogun remained behind and perched on the wall outside the city gates. Volstagg bounded over and slapped Thor on the back, while making inane small-talk, as Thor marched onward._

_He shrugged away their touches, while his lips pursed into a thin white line. Sif looked to Hogun, who raised a finger to his lips and jerked his head to his side, and – while she turned her eyes back to Thor and kept her gaze locked on him – she slowly returned to her previous spot. He tensed his muscles. A thick vein throbbed at his temple. Volstagg fell out of pace with him, stopping along the path to stand alone, but Fandral picked up pace in an attempts to keep at his side, and touched lightly upon his shoulder. Thor jerked away and muttered:_

_‘Not now, my friends. I beg you.’_

_Fandral finally stopped. He was the last one to cease his attempts to follow Thor, who quickly disappeared into the alleyways of Asgard and left nothing behind to mark his presence. Sif ran a hand over the back of her neck, while Hogun toyed with his fingers in his lap, and Fandral – with a loud huff – spun around and pointed in the direction where Thor had vanished. Volstagg sighed, as he came beside him and slapped a hand on his shoulder. Sif whispered:_

_‘This can’t be good . . .’_


	6. Part 2

Ingvar ran in small circles.

He chased after a second child, one smaller and thinner by comparison. The tunic was too large on his small frame, one that he would likely ‘grow into’ over time, and the fabric expensive from Vanaheim, albeit cut with an untrained hand into a rough and uneven shape. They ran around the fiery cooking-pit, where several adults tended to the flames and rotated the meat, and – every few minutes – one would call over a child to whisper lessons on the cooking process. 

The house was filled with neighbours, ones displaced from the explosion, and the garden filled with tents from those that failed to fit inside. A strong wind brought snow about the small scene, as some of the elderly members of the community hid away against a boulder for shelter. The stars above shone bright, with the moon casting an eerie glow about them, and in the darkness their blue skin shone almost black. Loki pulled the furs closer about his neck. He smiled down to see Ingvar run into the arms of his father, whose face was still wet with tears. A voice called:

“Do they know you watch them?”

Loki waved a hand over the water basin. The vision distorted, before the image of the Jotunheim village disappeared with only crystal clear waters left behind, and Loki pressed his hands to the side of the stone basin, as he looked down at his reflection. It was cold within the bedroom. The balcony overlooked the city beyond; Útgarðar filled every last part of his sights, while the people milled about in set areas and places, and construction set loose a cacophony that reached his rooms. Helblindi stepped through the bedroom doors towards him.

It was a grand room, with a beautiful _en suite_ that would put Asgardian architecture to shame, and the walk-in closets were built perfectly into the stone, with tables and beds also carved from the mountain itself. The basin stood between the archway to the balcony, allowing for a view of the cityscape, but just far enough back that it would not prove a hindrance to access. Loki stepped aside, as Helblindi came beside him and swept a hand over the water surface.

“There are no balcony doors,” spat Loki.

“We’re too high up for people to break into the room,” said Helblindi. “Even if they tried, we have specialised guards where you’d least expect them, and they aim their weapons well. The last person that tried to climb through a balcony was some thousand or more years ago, and he was dead before he even hit the courtyard. I wouldn’t worry about it, Cousin.”

“I _meant_ that I am cold and I wish for doors to keep warm.”

“Oh?” Helblindi frowned. “ _Oh_. Well, I’ll have a screen brought up for you.”

Helblindi dashed his hand against the waters. They splashed over the sides of the basin, casting water onto the stone floor that froze on contact, and the ripples cast over the surface distorted the moonlight, as Loki quirked an eyebrow and scoffed at the action. He muttered a brief complaint under his breath . . . _‘first time you have came to my rooms in six months’_ . . . the winds continued to blow and howl, catching at the papers on his desk that were held in place only by a heavy paperweight. Helblindi ignored him and asked in a chipper tone:

“Do you watch them often?”

“I just wanted to make sure you stuck to your word.”

“I may be as silver-tongued as you, but I’m always honest in my words.” Helblindi smiled. “I made sure that his family receive their rations, as well as that his father gets medical treatment, and – I’ll admit – the waiting list was some time, but . . . better late than never! I never thought you’d be one to care about children, though, let alone a Jotun child.”

“Don’t take what I’m about to say as weakness or foolish sentimentality, but I saw him in the snow that day and it was as if . . . it was as if I saw a part of myself. It wasn’t that I related to a Jotun, or that I remembered being a boy, but just that I saw him there . . . without a father . . .”

“Your father lived, Loki. Unless you mean Laufey?”

“I am Loki Odinson! Do not insult me by implying that Laufey would ever play on my mind. I might regret my actions upon Jotunheim, but I would kill him again and again and again without any hesitation or regret.” Loki shook his head. “No, I saw that boy and I thought what it would mean to me to lose Odin . . . to never say goodbye . . . I suppose I just -? I don’t know.”

A low sigh escaped Helblindi. He walked about the room with a slow gait, where his long fingers touched on every item with a strange exploration; they brushed against the furs of the bed, they flicked through books on a shelf, and they would pull on the edges of a table. He stopped only when he reached the sitting area, where he threw himself onto a stone sofa. The blankets over moulded themselves to his body, as he snuggled against them like a child, and he reclined with a fur throw pulled over his legs. He showed no sign of hesitation, as if he owned the room.

Loki glared in his direction, before he marched over to the sofa. He took a seat opposite, as he coughed and nodded towards the blanket, and Helblindi could only say through laughter: _‘you don’t mind, do you? It reminds me of my mother’s stories of Asgard’_. Loki rolled his eyes. He folded his arms and crossed his legs, while he tapped an odd tune against the leather of his sleeve and drew in a slow breath. A small cloud of steam escaped him on the exhale.

“It’s interesting,” said Helblindi. “You thought to your potential pain, and you recognised that Ingvar felt that same pain at the loss you induced. Do you know we have a word for that here on Jotunheim? It’s quite a handy one, but luckily short. We call it: ‘empathy’.”

“Has anyone ever told you that your teasing borders on condescending?”

“Oh, at least once or twice week, if I’m lucky.”

Loki huffed. He reached onto the side of the table, where a scroll lay rolled up with a leather band holding it in place, and he unrolled it with some effort across the bare stone, before dropping a paperweight on either side with a loud slam. The yellowed parchment was marked with a map in various colours, but most vivid were the blue lines that spread out from the city of Útgarðar like the legs of a spider to smaller towns. Loki parted his legs, as he rested one forearm on his knee, and he used his free hand to stab at the boldest line and spat:

“Byleistr thinks you’re not focusing our efforts on the right places.”

“Oh? Is it ‘our’ efforts now?”

“You’ve had me assisting in rebuilding Jotunheim for six months now.” Loki glared at Helblindi. “I would say that makes it partly _my_ effort as well, yes? I will say one thing . . . if I leave here with nothing else, I will always have a newfound respect for our healers.”

“Well, at least your time here hasn’t been wasted.”

“No, but it has helped me to see that Byleistr may be right. We have focussed all our time and attention on building a road from Útgarðar to a neighbouring town, and the rest of our resources have gone onto the hospital, palace, and schools. Your people still live in _camps_ and shared complexes! How can they return to normality when normality is taken from them?”

Helblindi sighed. He waved a hand and pointed to a far side-table. A tray sat on the imported linen table-cloth, where a bowl of fresh grapes and a decanter of wine sat untouched, and – pressing his hands together in a mock ‘please’ – Helblindi batted his eyelashes. Loki fisted his hands. He cast his gaze between the tray and Helblindi, but a muttered ‘ _seriously_ ’ was met only with an all-too-innocent nod. Loki swore and marched over to the tray, as he snatched at it and carried it back to the table between the sofas. He slammed it down, as Helblindi chirped:

“You’re both too short-sighted.”

A hand reached out towards the decanter. Loki pinched the bridge of his nose, as he sat down and hunched forward, and Helblindi poured the wine into a small pewter cup, which he sipped with a low sigh that bordered on appreciative. He picked cautiously at the grapes, before he rolled one in his fingers and took a hesitant bite. Loki made a mental note to gift him the last of the Asgardian cuisine before his departure, as he leaned back and rested his head on his hand, and Helblindi – through several bites – pointed in a vague direction of the map and shrugged.

“The road is necessary,” said Helblindi. “In case you and my brother failed to notice, we _finally_ were able to get appropriate rations and building materials on its completion. The main failing with Jotunheim is that my father focused too much on this one city, as if the capital was the centre of our world and what defined our people. We had no proper connections to outlying cities and villages and towns, unlike in Asgard or other realms.”

“Surely the capital should take priority?”

“Only insofar as it has the highest population, thus the highest needs and demands. The fact remains that our outlying communities were incredibly self-sufficient, without luxuries afforded to the capital; without imported food, they relied on self-sustaining agricultural, and without imported materials, the relied heavily on a self-supporting industrial sector.”

“Your point being what exactly?”

“That this previous either/or approach has failed us. They live in practical poverty, as they haven’t access to our resources, and we live now barely able to make ends meet, as we never took care to learn from them or use what they had to offer. Since the completion of the road, we now have a steady stream of supplies in and out, which means – in the long run – we can rebuild _more_ , and what we offer those that help us incentivises them _to_ help us.”

Loki pressed his lips together, as he stared hard at the map. The blue line between city and village was a smooth and straight route, cutting across fields and tunnelling through hills, but the final destination did indeed lead to a heavily agricultural area. A series of green lines and annotations noted areas for cattle and crops, with numbers indicating what reserves lay in the stores, and some was cast aside for trade and others for emergency stores. Loki let loose a heavy exhale, before he picked at a grape from the tray that covered part of the parchment. He said:

“That’s rather . . . forward-thinking.”

“I took after Fárbauti in that regard,” laughed Helblindi. “It’s why I thought to prioritise the rebuilding of certain structures over other structures. The people are doing well in the camps and shared accommodation we provided, but I’m thinking of paying non-essential workers to move to other towns and cities. We need to better disperse our people, to protect in case of future attack, but also to spread skills and resources and abilities to all areas.”

“It’ll also take off pressure here, too, I imagine . . . fewer mouths to feed.”

“Oh, don’t I know it!” Helblindi waved a hand. “In any case, the museum used to serve as our palace in the days of old, and it survived completely intact, as such it makes sense to use it as the seat of our current government and royal family. I still maintain the new palace being repurposed as a hospital makes sense, too, being that it was quickest to rebuild and most survived. That means we can help more people, and more people will be protected in future attacks.

“The school will take pressure off parents, as well as give children a sense of normality and hope and educate them not to make our future mistakes. It’s also acting as an orphanage, which helps the children who have lost so much able to feel . . . well . . . a little more supported. I also want to install a transport hub into every major city once we get the Casket back.”

Loki pinched the bridge of his nose. He closed his eyes. It took a few deep breaths before he looked back at the map, where red circles marked spots outside of every major town and city, excluding smaller villages, with red lines along blue to mark potential roads from the villages to the circles. Helblindi tossed a grape into the air, before he caught it in his mouth. He paid no mind to the map, even as Loki slid the tray further to the side, and – with a narrowed gaze – Loki peered down at the positions of the apparent transport hubs that would go off-planet.

“Why transport hubs, Helblindi?”

“If we’re attacked again, we need a way to evacuate off-planet”

“You have an answer for everything,” said Loki.

“I do,” replied Helblindi. “It’s why I think a parliamentary system will work, when we’re at a point to implement a new form of government; I can take more of a ‘figurehead’ role. It will allow for a true democracy, but I’ll still be able to guide the people to the right path. Oh, did Byleistr – in all his complaints – tell you about my plans for an adoption drive?”

“A _what_?”

“Oh, you’ll love this idea! I want to create a scheme to place orphaned children with childless parents, and maybe that way it’ll ease some of the pressures again, but also help give both hope and a new start in this new society. I know nothing can replace a lost love, but maybe . . .”

Helblindi threw off the blankets. The furs also slid along the stone sofa, where they would need to be adjusted once more, and he clapped his hands together, before he darted towards the balcony with a beckoning gesture for Loki to follow. He stopped mid-step in his path, before he dashed back to steal one further grape, and then raced back to the balcony. Helblindi stood outside, where he pressed both of his hands against the stone railing, and angled his head upward as if to catch the wind and snow. He smiled brightly and called back to Loki in a warm tone:

“Let me show you the school before you return to Asgard!”

A second hand gesture followed, as he waved Loki toward the balcony. He kept his eyes across the cityscape, without a single glance back into the bedroom, and popped the last grape into his mouth with a less that subtle movement. A low sigh escaped Loki, as he trudged towards Helblindi and stood beside him. The balconies on either side of them were empty, but the one above held some shuffling sounds and a few stray coughs, as if Byleistr or Agnar were either trying to make their presence known or failing at an attempt to eavesdrop.

The city was unlike its previous state. The vast amount of construction filled every inch of the vast space, while several buildings finally stood complete with a bustle of people, and far on the west perimeter – built into the mountain – stood a newly structure. It extended outward, with a building that looked more akin to a ‘school’, but the sleeping quarters remained fixed in the interior out of sight. Helblindi pointed a finger in its general direction.

“They finally completed it last night,” said Helblindi.

Loki noted the large playground outside. There was also a sports field and a training field, along with other buildings darted about the grounds, and it seemed far closer to a specialist university or a state-of-the-art military facility than a place for children. Loki pushed back a stray lock of hair, as he pressed his hands onto the railing. The cold brought goose-bumps to his flesh, as he fidgeted beneath the heavy layers, and his eyes fell on a small group of children in the snow. A sole figure supervised them, as they played in the school grounds without a single care.

“It’s rather large,” said Loki.

“It’ll be fine, Cousin.” Helblindi laughed. “It’s doubling as an orphanage at the moment, but I’m hoping to convert it with minimal effort into a boarding school for the rich. That will be when this whole thing is over, of course. The ‘profit’ will be funnelled into health and social care, as well as a free education and school system nationwide. It should work out fine.”

“But . . . you’re assuming people will _want_ to adopt these orphans.”

“Why wouldn’t they? I know nothing will replace a lost child, or undo the pain of infertility or lack of a partner or fear of childbirth, but these are children desperately in need of a home and going to people who have a home to offer. It’s a kindness. I personally think it’s a greater good to ease the pain of an existing child, than to selfishly bring a new one unnecessarily into the world. The happiness of one is cancelled out by the pain of the other.

“We also have a huge focus on community. There is a saying on Midgard: ‘it takes a village to raise a child’. I have either been blessed or cursed, depending on your perspective, with the lack of a partner and the lack of a child, but . . . I’ve always wanted a family more than anything in this world. I know – without a doubt – if I had a child and were to die -? I would want them to be loved and educated and raised in a way that will allow them to have a good life.”

“But how could it be the same when the child isn’t really theirs?”

“You were adopted, weren’t you? Do you feel it isn’t the same?” Helblindi frowned. “You are my biological brother, but I do not love you any more or feel an instant connection. I still see you as my cousin, because you are _Odin’s_ son, and I doubt Odin loves you any less, when he is the one that kissed you when you cried and hugged you when you laughed.”

Helblindi turned to face Loki. He leaned his arm against the railing, while his blue eyes raked slowly over Loki from head to toe, and he waved a hand in the air with a twirl, in a gesture that was left open to interpretation. The frown to his eyes deepened the lines on his forehead, while the dark skies of Jotunheim added shadows to his features that aged him beyond his years. Loki stood tall and directly faced him. He lifted his arms to his side and leaned forward, as his eyes dared Helblindi to speak out of turn, but Helblindi simply asked without his smile:

“Why do you feel like adoption is an inferior option?”

“Because a part of me feels that _I’m_ the inferior child,” spat Loki. “I always spent my whole life feeling second-best to Thor, which was difficult enough, and then I found out I was adopted and it . . . it _broke_ me. I always knew where I stood before; no matter how inferior I felt, I was Odin’s son and I knew my place. It gave me stability and pride. I was proud to be his son.”

“What changed for want of a blood connection?”

“Everything, Helblindi. _Everything_.” Loki shook his head. “The truth is that I feel the same. I still feel pride to be his son, and I still love him for being my father, but suddenly – based on something beyond my control – no one else feels the same . . . I’m having to _fight_ for my right just to be acknowledged! If the love is the same, why aren’t I being treated the same?

“I _know_ my place, but suddenly my place has been snatched from me. If I had the same life, same parents, same upbringing . . . why does my blood make a difference? It starts to get into your head, because what is the world seeing that I’m not? I feel like I’m _screaming_ that I’m Odin’s son, whereas everyone acts as if I’m Laufey’s son, and it’s so frustrating to not be heard . . . to not be recognised . . . I can see why people prefer to keep it a shameful secret.”

“I find it odd that it’s seen as shameful.”

“I find it odder that I actually _fear_ people knowing, lest they _think_ it shameful.”

Loki turned his back to the school. The breeze caught at the candlelight, as well as sent ripples across the waters in the basin, and shadows were cast over the stone furniture, as the clouds in the sky moved to make way for some natural light. Loki walked back to the sofas in the sitting area, where he poured a cup full of wine. He sipped at the red liquid. It stained at his upper lip, while he reclined on the sofa and stretched his legs out before him. Helblindi followed at a far slower pace, before sitting opposite him, and taking his cup in turn. Loki whispered:

“Do you know why my life can no longer be the same?”

“Why?” Helblindi asked.

“Thor defended me to a guard on my first week here. He said that the guard should hold his tongue, for I was his brother, and when the guard reminded him of the blood on my hands and the people I’ve killed -? Thor sheepishly muttered: ‘he’s adopted’.” Loki scoffed. “Do you know what Fandral asked when the others were told of my adoption? ‘Who is your real father?’”

“What does he mean by that?”

“What do you _think_ he meant? He thinks that Laufey is my actual father, simply as he sired me, and that my connection is somehow less to Odin for the lack of blood! It’s not just him, either, but everyone . . . I’ve _never_ wanted children, but one time I mentioned adoption and the friend I was with laughed and said: ‘it’s not the same’ and ‘don’t you want a child of your own’?”

“I can’t believe people would feel that way.”

“I fear the words of others more than anything, because _I_ know what it’s like to be undermined, and so to then inflict that pain on an innocent child -?” Loki sighed. “Maybe that’s why Odin hid it from me? Maybe it was to protect me? Maybe I was too hard on him . . .”

Helblindi said nothing. He kept an impassive face. The wine was sipped, and the grapes were stolen by quick fingers, and he reclined again with the furs draped over his form, as if there was no deeper concern than the passing of time and the enjoyment of the moment. Loki cast his eyes over the map, where a note was made of the pick-up/drop-off point for Thor those months earlier, and where he would be expected to wait the next day. He leaned forward to run his finger over the lines, where they smudged under his soft touch. A sigh escaped his lips.

“I just want the acknowledgement that I deserve,” said Loki. “Each time they talk about my father like it’s Laufey, I feel that it invalidates the love I have for Odin. Yes, there are times when I’ve hated Odin, but I still loved him even in those moments, and I feel guilt and shame and _anger_ that they would say my feelings of filial loyalty any less. They don’t know my heart!”

“No, they don’t. I’m sorry you endured those emotions.”

“I’ll admit that maybe it’s made me bitter against adoption, as it’s easy to imagine all children feeling the same as me, but maybe every culture is different . . . what is it like here on Jotunheim? Now that I talk about it, I’ve not heard a bad word spoken here.”

Helblindi swirled the cup of wine. The contents spun like a cyclone, until it threatened to spill, and – with a deep inhale of the rich scent – the hand stopped and the contents continued to spin, until they finally fell still with slight wobbles. He downed the contents, before he filled the cup again and slid it onto the table. It left a few droplets on the map. They spread out like blood, as they soaked into the parchment, and covered one of the smallest outlying villages. Helblindi sighed, while his hands stroked at the furs over his long and slight legs. He said:

“We don’t think quite like you Asgardians, it seems.”

“No, it seems not.”

“It’s almost impossible to follow a bloodline here.” Helblindi smiled. “We are a warrior race, so we often lose people in hunts and wars, and it was quite common for our people to interbreed with those of Asgard, too. It’s why the idea of Laufey ‘abandoning’ a child was never scandalous to us, even though it was completely untrue, and why our people never entertained the notion.

“We always thought that it was better to give a child to a loving family, than to selfishly keep a child that one can’t . . . well . . . fully provide. A child needs unconditional love, as well as food and shelter and education, and we were always grateful to Odin for providing you that, even if he _did_ steal you from us and keep you hidden. There are no different types of ‘son’ . . . there is no foster son, adopted son, or biological son . . . there’s only ‘the son’.”

“I believe that is a cultural difference I can support.”

Helblindi hummed. The smile that broke across his face was bright; he half-closed his eyes and tilted back his head, as his long plait fell over the arm of the sofa, and he arched his back with a long stretch. Helblindi pulled back the furs. He swung his feet around onto the floor, as he cricked his neck and slapped his hands on his thighs. It was an all too casual gesture, a far cry to the perfect poses that were always exuded in a professional setting, and – when he stood – the light caught his features and emphasised his Asgardian nature. He walked towards Loki.

“Look, you’re going back to Asgard for six months, right?” Helblindi squeezed his shoulder. “I know Thor and Byleistr won’t appreciate me saying this, but perhaps you should take this time to work out who _you_ are and what _you_ want. You define yourself too much by others. You may be Odin’s son, but you aren’t Odin. You also aren’t what others believe you to be.”

“No, I’m just what _you_ want me to be, isn’t that right?”

“I will admit that I wouldn’t lead you down the path of self-discovery if it didn’t benefit me, but that also doesn’t mean that I would lead you down a dangerous path that would do you harm. Do try not to hurt yourself just to spite others, hmm? Sometimes good advice is just good advice.”

Helblindi slapped a hand again on his shoulder. It was a familial touch, which was followed by a lingering hold until his fingers trailed away as he walked, and soon his hand fell limp at his side, as he walked over towards the main doors. The skin was still warm where Helblindi held him, unlike the touches of Byleistr or Odin. Loki pursed his lips. He gnawed at the inside of his cheek, while Helblindi finally reached the bedroom doors, and – as his hand touched upon the handle – a spark of adrenaline shot through Loki. He blurted out before he could restrain himself:

“Helblindi, what would happen if I were to be disowned?” Loki winced. “If I were no longer Loki Odinson, would I default to being Loki Laufeyson? How do the laws work here regarding such matters? You say I should learn who I am, but what if I end up as no one?”

“Do you really think Odin would disown you?”

“I think he would do whatever was best for his sons, even if it was to leave them . . .”

A quirked eyebrow was the only response. Helblindi tilted his head with an impassive expression, but slowly something dawned on him and his expression softened. He burst out with laughter that echoed about the bedroom, while colour rose to his blue cheeks, and he placed a hand on his hip, as he shook his head with tears brimming in his eyes. The handle to the door clicked under his free hand, and he opened the door wide enough to reveal one guard on the other side. He pointed a finger at Loki and wagged it playfully, as he teased through a half-smile:

“Be careful, Loki. I would hate to see you hurt.”

The door closed quickly behind him, as he swept through into the corridor beyond. Loki rose and walked toward them, where his fingers touched on the carved stone, and he dropped his head against the door with a heavy sigh, as his shoulders slumped. The water basin still stood at some distance, where Asgard and Ingvar could be easily seen, but still he remained at the door with the stone providing a barrier between him and the world beyond . . .


	7. Part 2

“Welcome back, Thor.”

Thor stood in the open doorway. The bright light from the hallway illuminated the lounge of his private quarters, while the open doors to the left concealed the bedchamber just beyond, and the _en suite_ to the right still let loose a cloud of steam that hid away the interior. Thor cricked his neck and sighed, until a low cough came from the balcony opposite. The setting sun brought with it long shadows and a beautiful red glow, which illuminated Loki’s frame with a bright aura . . .

 _Loki_.

He stood with hair loose in only an open gown. The expensive green silk brushed against the marble floor, while it slipped down one slim shoulder in a way that made Thor’s mouth water, and one leg slipped through the gap in a purposeful pose, as it elongated his frame. The smooth skin that ran from chest to groin was broken only by a sparse scattering of black hair, which lay just above his half-hard member, and his green eyes were dilated and narrowed. Thor swallowed hard. Loki brushed back a lock of black hair behind his ear, as he pursed his lips.

Thor cursed.

He grabbed at the doors and pulled them mostly closed, before he poked his head through the gap to look both ways down the corridor. The guards were still at their posts. There were no doors opposite his quarters, while no one roamed the royal quarters at such an awkward point of the evening . . . not early enough for sleep, not late enough for duties to be complete. Thor sighed and slammed shut the doors. It rattled portraits on the wall, as well as a vase on its plinth, and Thor threw himself back against the wood with a low hiss through flared nostrils.

Thor pinched the bridge of his nose. Loki dropped the robe to the floor. He stood still before the balcony, right between the two opened doors, and slowly raised his arms above his head, as he cocked his head to the side with a smirk. Thor darted across the room. He ignored the provocative pose, to instead kneel down and pull the robe back around that lithe figure, and those green eyes turned into dark slits as he glared at Thor with a low scoff.

“Loki, I missed your touch, too, but what if I’d been with someone?”

“Oh, you worry too much. So much for my welcome . . .”

Loki scoffed, as he marched towards the bedroom. He knocked past Thor with his shoulder, enough to leave a faint trace of a bruise, and – throwing open the doors – dropped his gown to the floor once more, before he vanished with a loud: ‘are you coming’? Thor gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. He followed with a slow pace, but stopped at the doorway. He dropped his jaw, as his mouth ran dry and his heart raced, and his eyes raked slowly over Loki, who reclined with legs spread and arms thrown upward, with his hair splayed out like a halo.

“It’s been six months, Loki,” said Thor. “If anything, I should be the one welcoming you!”

“Oh, and what a welcome it’s been.” Loki arched his back. “I arrive back only to be whisked off to a state dinner, and then get forced to effectively ‘debrief’ before the Allfather, before Mother drags me to the healers for a full check-up. It’s then off to bed with dear old Loki!”

“The state dinner was a grand honour to welcome you back, Brother!”

“I know, and the debriefing and healers are to make sure that the Jotuns have not abused me or brainwashed me or otherwise harmed me. I might lack the up-close-and-personal fighting tactics of you or Father, but I _am_ quite capable of self-defence, and I resent being treated like an ‘honoured guest’ in my own home! If I am family, treat me as such!”

It was Thor’s turn to roll his eyes. He marched over to a nearby chair at the dressing table, where a black pair of leather trousers sat neatly folded over a green tunic and green-and-silver cape, and – snatching them from the pile – he tossed them towards Loki. They landed across his abdomen and groin with a cold and rough touch. Loki jolted into an upright position, while Thor quickly tossed the rest of his clothes and gestured for him to dress, and pre-empted the complaint from an already opened mouth with a raised finger pointed in his direction, as he spat:

“If I treated you like family, you would not be in my bed.”

“Touché,” muttered Loki.

Loki snatched at the clothes, as he swung his legs onto the floor. He awkwardly dressed, while Thor came to sit beside him, and the mattress dipped under his weight, as the thick furs and covers fell about their lowers backs with a soft touch. Loki was soon fully clothed. The heavy layers added bulk to his frame, adding the illusion of weight and muscle, and the knee-high boots emphasised the sense of height and elongated his frame. Thor reached to him, as he slid his hand beneath the black locks and stroked at the soft skin of his long neck.

“It has only been a day, Loki,” whispered Thor. “I’d planned to sneak into your rooms tonight, but Father has planned a surprise family meal . . . I think he means to present you with a gift, something to remind you of your place within the family, but if you’d rather sit here moaning about how we treat you -? I can tell him that his gift is unwanted.”

“You’re a real bastard sometimes, you know that?”

“If I am, I learn from the best.”

“I suppose I can retract my previous complaints. Still, Mother has the whole day planned tomorrow with Sif and Eir, and the following day Father has planned a hunt with you and the Warriors Three, and I can’t help but wonder . . . do they miss me and wish to make up for lost time, or do they feel guilt and fear the mentally ill man may snap again without attention?”

“It could well be both, Brother. I still feel shame that I made you feel that you were in my shadows, but I also miss your jokes and warmth and even your temper tantrums. I would have given anything for you to mediate between me and Father, too . . . we argue too much.”

“You’re too different where it counts, but too similar where it doesn’t.”

A low hum escaped Thor, as he pulled Loki against him. He slid his fingers up and down Loki’s arm, while he buried his face into those black locks, and – with a deep breath – the scent was no longer the same as before, but instead reminded him of the harsh soaps used in Jotunheim. Thor remained locked in the embrace until a knock sounded at the main doors. He slowly pulled away, with his fingers lingering against that warm skin, and stood before Loki with his hand extended. He nodded his head towards the lounge and asked with a smile:

“Come with me?”

“That’s not the first time you’ve asked _that_ in this bedroom,” teased Loki.

“If you were any better in bed, I’d not have to ask.”

Thor dodged the oncoming book by a mere inch. It brushed past his head enough to catch at his hair, sending a spray of blond about his vision, and it crashed so hard against the wall that paper spilled from its binding as the spine cracked. Laughter erupted from Thor, as he caught his balance and walked backwards towards the lounge. He held his arms out in a gesture of half-surrender and half-invitation. Loki curled his lip and lunged for him, only for Thor to dodge at the last second and mutter an out: ‘you’ve lost your touch, witch’.

He ran to the doors, before he burst out into the corridor. Thor remained several steps ahead of Loki; each time Loki came close, Thor would increase the distance with a burst of speed, and slow down just enough that Loki would catch up, only to repeat the action. They made it to the end of the corridor before his feet refused to move. Thor looked down. They seemed glued to the floor, even as he used both hands to yank them as hard as he could upward.

“Don’t ever underestimate the ‘witch’, Warrior.”

“Damn it, Loki! You cheat!”

Thor finally wrenched free his feet, but Loki was already ahead. The distance was only broken outside the doorway to the Odin’s quarters, where Loki stood perfectly to attention with his hands clasped behind his back, and – with a childish fake smile – he uttered a long: ‘aw, I guess you lost’. Thor huffed and elbowed him. Loki elbowed back. They slapped and struck at each other, until the doors were opened, and both jumped back to perfect attention.

Odin and Frigga stood before a grand circular fireplace. It illuminated them from behind, providing a beautiful glow to the grey and blonde, but equally darkening the expressions and emphasising the lines of age about their faces. There were tears in Frigga’s blue eyes. The hands brought to her face were wrinkled and trembled, while the smile behind them could barely be concealed, as a blush overtook her cheeks. Odin stepped forward towards them. He bore an unreadable expression, as he kept his head high and hands clasped behind his back.

“Loki, _my boy_ ,” whispered Odin.

The expression immediately softened, as his mouth broke into a smile. He dropped his shoulders, while the tension in every muscle bled from his body, and – with arms thrown wide open – he marched at a quick speed towards them, before throwing himself at Loki. The weakened limbs wrapped around Loki’s frame, as he held him tight for a lingering hug, and he clasped at Loki’s neck with both hands as he pulled back. He kissed at the pale forehead. He lightly slapped at the broad back. Finally, he guided Loki towards the sofas centre of the room.

Thor and Frigga followed with equal smiles and tears. They sat on sofas opposite one another, while Loki and Odin sat beside each other between them, and the fireplace roared with life, casting flickering shadows about the walls and floor. The sofa creaked beneath Thor, as he leaned forward with his hands clasped between his knees. The warmth brought a small sheen of sweat to Loki’s skin, as he undid a button to his collar, and Odin waved a hand so that the fires were quickly extinguished. It was only a thin slither of smoke that betrayed their existence.

“You missed me, then,” muttered Loki.

“Did we not make that clear with the state dinner?” Odin slapped at Loki’s shoulder. “It was thrown in your honour, my son! We received regular updates from Helblindi about your progress within Jotunheim . . . you have learnt basic healing skills, yes? It may be some time before you save enough lives to balance out the ones you took, but it is an admirable start.”

“So you told me in what amounted to a debriefing.”

“Or what others would call a ‘father-son talk’. Will you continue to always twist my words and misinterpret my intentions? I thought that you were seeing the healers during your stay upon Jotunheim, but it seems that some progress has yet to be made. You will see our healers while you are here, Loki. They will help you to see matters with a clear perspective.”

“You mean to see things with _your_ perspective,” spat Loki.

“Still you make me out to be a villain?”

The two shared the same expression: eyes narrowed, lips into a thin line, and shoulders squared. It was matched by a silence that was filled only with hisses through flared nostrils, and Thor – with a heavy exhale – shot a glance to Frigga, before he jerked his head in their direction. Frigga nodded with a smile. The embers of the fire still emitted a great deal of heat, as she stood slowly and walked towards them, and a wave of her hand created a contained snowy cyclone that sent cold air circulating about the room. Loki fell back with a low sigh and a half-smile.

“I know you mean well, Odin, my dear,” whispered Frigga. “You worry that our son doubts your love, which is a valid concern, but you cannot _force_ him to see that you love him. Love is shown through actions and not words, as such you must remember that you had a gift for him, one that required a great sacrifice on your part, and show him that he is your priority in life.”

“That he’s worth making a sacrifice for,” muttered Thor.

“Of course Loki is worth such a sacrifice!” Odin huffed and shook his head. “Is this not hard enough without having my feelings doubted in the process? I am sorry that I may have made Loki feel that he was not worthy of my love, and I am sorry that I made him grow to hate Jotuns in the manner that I was made to hate Jotuns. I was wrong. It is not easy for me to say, but I think now is the time to say it . . . I trust Helblindi told you both about Bestla?”

“He said that she took the Asgardian child with her to Jotunheim.”

“Aye, that much is true. You see, Bor was on the brink of war with Nál, Laufey’s father. It was a time when Jotunheim and Asgard were intertwined, with marriages and unions common between the two, and Bestla herself was half-Asgardian in nature. Fárbauti was almost fully Asgardian in nature, whereas her brother . . . myself . . . my skin was as blue as the waters beyond.”

Frigga slowly returned to her seat, before sharing a quick smile with Thor. The smile was returned with a trembling approximation of one in turn, but it was soon broken by the open mouth scoff that was aimed toward Odin, who kept his eyes locked on the tiled floor. Loki said nothing, but the smirk he wore was aimed directly at Thor. It only added to the rush of adrenaline, as Thor forced slow and deep breaths, and his heart raced fast enough in his chest that every beat pounded loud within his ears. He pointed a trembling hand to Odin and asked:

“You’re Jotun in nature?”

“Bor grew to resent Nál and declared war,” continued Odin. “Bestla struggled with her loyalty to her people and her loyalty to her husband, and so she refused to contribute to the war, and Bor saw this as disloyalty to him. If she would not stand by his side, she would stand against him. He demanded of her that she pick who would have her support, issuing a severe ultimatum, and she was not one to take ultimatums well . . . she left him for Jotunheim.

“Fárbauti was forced to leave with her, as an act of revenge. If Bor valued the Asgardians over the Jotuns to the extent of such an ultimatum, she would take the one Asgardian child from him, and that was the act that led to all out war. It was the start of many millennia of conflict, culminating in the final battle that led to my taking Loki from the temple.

“You see Bor grew to loathe the Jotun race. He lost his wife, while his daughter married a Jotun prince, and together they had children that were Jotun in turn. He died sometime between Helblindi’s birth and Loki’s birth, but never once did he express an interest in seeing any of them, and instead he forbade all mention of their existence from our realm.

“Bor removed them from our history books. Bor removed them from our portraits. The mere mention of the name ‘Bestla’ could lead to a man being flogged or worse, and the idea of having a Jotun son as his only heir broke something inside of him. He would not remarry, as he could not stand the idea of being ‘betrayed’ once more, and so instead . . . he cast on me the same spell that I cast upon Loki. He hid my skin from the world. I never once broke the spell.”

Thor laughed. He stood and paced before the cold-cyclone. The sound of his footsteps broke through the lounge, as he kept his head low and massaged his temples, and Loki simply leaned back against the soft cushions, before he crossed his legs and arms. Thor stopped just before the cyclone. It was encased in a barrier much like the previous fire, which kept away the worst of the cold and protected against accidental touches, and it spun with the same ferocity as the winds of Jotunheim. Thor turned his head towards Odin and asked in a quiet voice:

“Do you even remember your true form?”

“I was so young that I was oblivious that a spell had even been cast,” confessed Odin. “I remember the cruel taunts and physical blows when Bestla left, and I remember the crippling sense of self-blame and the inability to love and trust again. It was an abandonment that I could not endure. It is why I never questioned the spell, especially when it led to an improvement in his attitude . . . Bor would praise me, hug me, and boast about me at long last.”

“We only knew the truth on Bor’s deathbed,” added Frigga. “Even then, I have never seen your father’s Jotun form and I have never attempted to break the spell. Your father lived believing that his Jotun nature was the reason why Bestla abandoned him, while Bor made him believe that his Jotun nature was something shameful to be hidden. He grew to hate himself as Loki did.”

“And so we come full circle,” said Odin. “I have become my father.”

“But Loki does not need to become you . . .”

The smile on Frigga softened Odin’s expression. He whispered a soft _‘my queen’_ , before he nodded towards her and squeezed at Loki’s hand with a brief touch, and – with slowness borne by his years – he took his time easing himself onto his feet. The steps he took towards the ‘fireplace’ were slow and steady, but his back was hunched as if he could not bear the weight of an upright posture. He pressed his hands to the edge of the circular feature, where his fingers met the edge of the barrier and darkened the skin to an almost invisible shade of blue.

“I want Loki to not be ashamed as I was ashamed,” said Odin. “I plan to make an announcement tomorrow to our people, and this shall be followed by my breaking the spell. I will wear my Jotun form full-time, and perhaps . . . in time . . . Loki will feel comfortable to wear his skin in turn, knowing that he is still Asgardian and still a member of our family.”

“So you’ve been Jotun all this time?” Thor asked.

“It was a secret that I hoped would go to my grave. I could have lost Loki that night when Jotunheim was nearly destroyed . . . I will not lose him now, as such I will do all that I can to make right what my father did wrong. I am part-Jotun. I will not be ashamed of that.”

Thor stepped back. The swirling cyclone of snow failed to impact Odin, while it provided a small comfort to Loki who had grown used to colder climes, and Frigga simply pulled her collar tighter about her neck, as she shivered beneath the thin layers of Asgardian attire. Thor brought his hands to his mouth. He drew in slow and deep breaths, as his temple throbbed with a sharp pain that brought sparks of colour about his vision. Thor shook his head. He lifted a hand lazily into the air and dropped it again, as he turned his back on the others:

“Excuse me, I need time to think.”

He headed towards the doors with a quick pace; Frigga called after him with a whisper of his name, and Odin kept facing the swirling currents of snow. The warmth of the corridor was refreshing against his skin, as Thor turned away from the guards and found a spot further down to lean against the wall, and – with a long exhale – he stared upward at the painted ceiling with muscles finally loose and relaxed. The racing heartbeat started to slow down. 

The doors creaked open and closed again. A series of slow and swaying footsteps followed, like one walking an invisible line with a melodramatic gait, and Thor lowered his gaze to see Loki stand before him with hands held before him, as he wore a huge smirk. It reached the green depths of his eyes, bringing small crinkles at the corners. He bounced on the heels of his feet. It was a smug stance that originated from their childhood . . . _‘aw, are you being punished? Funny that, they rewarded me’_. . . Thor clenched his fists until knuckles turned white.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” Loki laughed. “Being lied to, I mean. Believing you’re one thing, only to learn that it’s all just a fiction. Well . . . I guess you saw it coming, as Helblindi showed you plenty of proof, but there’s always that _doubt_ , isn’t there? That niggling feeling in the back of your mind that: ‘no, this horror can’t be real, it must be just a bad dream’.”

“Why are you gloating, Brother? It ill suits you.”

“Because . . . Because I’m finally not alone. True, you don’t have my blue skin to contend with, but now everyone will _know_ that you’re one-eighth Jotun, and I guess . . . I guess it’s just good to know that you can’t undermine how I felt now. You can’t just go ‘we’re still family’ or ‘what does it matter’, because now you know that it _does_ matter. It changes everything.”

“You’re right. It does change everything . . . except that we’re still family.”

“True. Do you know what’s strange? I resent him and love him in equal measure. I resent the lies and secrets, forcing me to redefine myself and forge a whole new identity, and I resent that he destroyed my sense of self-perception, but I . . . I love him. He’s my father and he made me the man I am today, as such he’s as much a part of me as Frigga . . .”

“He made you hate yourself and he was _exactly_ the same this entire time!”

“True, but that kind of makes me hate him a little less.”

“Aye, but it makes me hate him a little more!”

“Why don’t you go take a walk, Thor?” Loki sighed. “I’ll thank Father for his honesty, but tell him that we just need time to process what was said, and we’ll speak to him properly tomorrow morning in greater detail . . . as for tonight -? Well, I’m sure I can distract you.”

“I’m sure you can, Brother. Your rooms this time?”

“Of course, leave all the clean-up to _me_ , why don’t you?”

Thor laughed. It was deep and loud, penetrating every inch of the corridor, but it failed to reach his watering eyes, as he lifted a hand before his face . . . he turned it slowly. The skin was still white, without a single hint of blue, but it was the same blood that ran through the veins of Helblindi and Byleistr. He dropped his hand at his side. He tilted back his head once more, as he stared absently at the ceiling, and a stray tear pricked at his eye, before it ran down his cheek. He drew in a shuddered breath and asked in a low voice:

“So I’m part Jotun, too?”

“I’d make a joke about having a little Jotun in you, but –”

Thor kicked at Loki, but Loki dodged the blow. It was a half-hearted gesture, replaced with laughter and smile, and Loki laughed along with him, as he came to stand beside Thor. A hand fell on his shoulder, where it slid towards his neck, and the soft pad of his thumb stroked lightly against his jaw, as he nuzzled into the warm palm. The sight of the green irises stopped all tears, as Thor drew in a deep breath and pressed a soft kiss to the wrist. 

“Thank him for me,” said Thor. “For his honesty.”

He gently pulled away the hand, but pressed another kiss to its back. It brought out a whispered ‘idiot’ from Loki, who yanked his hand away and nodded towards the guards stationed at every door, and yet his expression remained soft and his smile never wavered. They parted slowly, as Loki returned to the lounge with his fingers already on the door-handle. Thor stepped back. They continued to lock eyes until Thor was forced to turn away, and Loki whispered out:

“I will, Thor. I will.”


	8. Part 2

Frigga walked through the audience chambers. The grand balcony stood at the far right, where it overlooked the city of Asgard, and thousands of lights twinkled in the night, as people went about their nocturnal routines. The taverns heaved with groups of people, as strangers made friends with unexpected figures, and the small fires of cooking hearths burned bright, as families gathered around for their evening meals. Life filled every inch of the cityscape.

A stray figure stood on the balcony, where it waited patiently for her arrival. Loki stood with his hands pressed to the marble banister, decorated with ornate and antique balustrade, and the flames of the outside torches cast flickering shadows about his face. The long black coat hung to his ankles, while his loose locks of black hair rustle in the breeze. He made no sign of acknowledgment, as her slipper-covered feet padded along the balcony towards him, and he remained still even as she stood beside him, with her dressing-gown clasped about her chest.

The cold breeze was strong on her skin. Frigga wrapped her arms tighter about her chest, where wrinkled and pale hands trembled, and Loki – with a quick double-take – slid off his coat and draped it around her shoulders. A sweat marked his forehead, while the inside of the leather was initially ice-cold against her small frame. He sighed and rolled his shoulders, as he leaned on his forearms on the banister, and the thin green shirt clung to his skin. Frigga asked:

“Do you not feel bored now that you are home?”

Loki turned around, as he leaned back on the banister. He stretched his legs out before him, where he crossed them at the ankles, and his head tilted back to stare at the palace, as the rooms above revealed dozens of grand balconies and wide windows. Frigga smiled, before her eyes fell out towards the far distance. The Rainbow Bridge was still in the midst of construction, where a group of men and women worked tirelessly to retrieve what was lost, and already they had made substantial progress. Frigga pushed back a lock of blonde hair, as Loki asked:

“Why would I feel bored here in Asgard?”

“I would say because you have experienced Jotunheim,” said Frigga. “They have very different expectations of their royalty, and you spent much of your days tending to the people. I know you too well for you to admit that you found it fulfilling, or that you enjoyed being among the people, but – at the very least – surely you will admit that life here is far slower in comparison.”

“It was always slow, unless one was prepared to make mischief.” Loki scoffed. “If you know me that well, you won’t pretend that I was the most social of creatures . . . if it wasn’t for Thor, I probably wouldn’t have been on half as many adventures as I experienced.”

“Now you have the adventure of a lifetime with the Jotuns.”

“I would hardly call it _that_ , but it has opened my eyes to what I want from my future. I’ve spent my whole life at the side of Thor or Father, and – for the first time – I was able to actually live apart from them and make my own choices. I still want to see this through, so that I can make amends to Jotunheim, but when all this is finished -? I quite like the idea of independence.”

A flush of colour flooded his cheeks. The half-smile on his lips brought lines to his green eyes, where they softened and fixed their gaze on a distant spot, and he slowly pushed himself upright, as he ran a hand through his hair and cricked his neck. Frigga shivered, as her breath appeared before her in a small cloud. He winced. Loki gently pressed a hand to her shoulder, as he guided her back inside the chambers, and took the coat from her as she made to sit on the sofa. He came to sit opposite her, where he pulled the coat back on, and Frigga asked in a quiet voice:

“You like being away from your family?”

“I like the _freedom_ ,” whispered Loki. “Do you know what I felt hanging from the bridge? I felt tied to Father and trapped by all I’d done, like I was clinging onto _him_ , and I was so desperate for his approval, his acknowledgment . . . his love. I had this small part of me that wanted to let go and fall into the abyss, because there was something so freeing about that . . . something about not _needing_ other people, because I could just be myself and not what they wanted me to be.

“I love Thor. I would die for you. I would kill for Father. Still, I’ve spent my whole life in their shadows, and no matter how much light you tried to cast on me -? It wasn’t enough. I think it just showed me how trapped I was trying to fit some mould, when all I want to do is break the mould and be myself, and I honestly don’t think that I can do that here. I can’t.

“A prince has too many expectations placed on him. Jotunheim showed me a different way to rule, but it’s still an existence indebted to a people! I – I don’t want to spend my whole life serving others, helping others, _enslaved_ to others . . . I’m selfish, Mother. I want some time to be free and discover who I am when I’m not playing the part of ‘prince’ or ‘son’ or ‘brother’. Who is Loki? Why can’t he travel the Nine Realms? Why can’t he have new experiences?”

Frigga drew in a deep breath. The fireplace on the far wall let out a strong heat, enough that it penetrated her gown and warmed her flesh, but already there was a visible sweat again on Loki, as he pulled at his collar and tilted back his head with a loud hiss. A faint melody drifted though the chamber, as someone played music in one of the halls below. It was light and familiar. Frigga half-closed her eyes, as she followed the notes and counted the beats, and Loki poured two glasses of wine on the table between them. He slid one towards her, as she asked:

“Have you always felt this way?”

“Honestly? Yes.” Loki sighed. “I feel like I’ve spent the last few centuries more and more in search of happiness, just thinking that if I can fit in and be normal and make others happy -? I don’t know. I thought that maybe _I’d_ be happy. It just . . . the more I was the perfect son, the perfect brother . . . it kept making me feel worse and worse! I felt like I was someone else . . . I was someone _they_ wanted to be, and I was losing a part of myself . . .

“I would feel the emptiness and I would think: ‘maybe I’m just not doing a good enough job’. If I could win more of Father’s approval, maybe I’d feel more fulfilled, and maybe if I could fight like Thor, I’d feel less like an _ergi_ . . . I strove more and more to fit in, but all I did was become more and more like someone else. I – I think I’ve learned something from Father and Helblindi.”

“That you should be yourself lest you grow to hate what you become?”

“ _Yes_ ,” gasped Loki. “I want to try what it feels like to be in Jotun skin. I want to try what it feels like to be Odin’s child, neither son or daughter, and I want to try new forms. I want to explore the Nine Realms, have my _own_ adventures, and I don’t want the duties of being a prince and ruler, because I know I’d only be happy being served and not serving others.

“I just feel trapped still, because Father hasn’t long for this world . . . I need to be here for him, so that I can say my goodbyes and have no regrets, but I also love and adore Thor. I know he wouldn’t want for me to leave, but we also want such different things from life. He _wants_ to be the protector of the people, and even if he doesn’t to rule, he’ll rule so long as others need him to, and he wants children and a family and _more_ obligations that come from that!”

Loki snatched at his glass. He lifted it high and swirled it in the light, before he threw himself back in his seat and sipped at the red liquid. The pose he took was casual, one that Frigga had often chastised in the past, but the more she would chastise then the more he would sit with limbs splayed about, as if he were never a noble. It was something taken from Odin. Frigga smiled to see her husband within her son, with the resemblance spilling over into actions and words, and sipped at her wine in turn to hide her smile. Loki remained ever silent.

“I have spoken to Helblindi,” said Frigga.

“Oh? What about?”

“He suspects – the same as I – that you and Thor are engaged in an incestuous relationship.”

A cloud of wine sprayed from Loki’s mouth. It reached as far as her skirts, staining the hem red like blood, and he coughed and choked until tears streamed down his cheeks. He hurled himself forward, where he dropped his head between his knees, and some drool fell from his lips in an undignified manner, until he wiped it away with the back of his hand. Frigga slid along the sofa to sit beside him. A warm hand ran circles on his back, as he fought for breath and spluttered over an array of incoherent sounds, and eventually he turned his head to her to mutter:

“I don’t know what you think you know, but –”

“Do not patronise me, my son,” said Frigga. “You did not inherit your powers of observation from the wind, and you were loved enough that I always kept watch of your comings and goings, lest you ran into trouble on the same level as your brother. It was not hard to miss the signs.”

“ _What_ signs?”

“Oh? Your father demanded that you two take different rooms, as soon as Thor became of age, and yet – somehow – you would always sneak into his rooms at night and sneak out come morning, and I told Odin to ignore it for a while, as you two bore an unshakeable bond, but then came the whispered leanings in crowded rooms and stolen touches and ridiculous bouts of jealousy regarding one another. Even now the mention of ‘Jane’ makes your eyebrow twitch.”

“There was nothing physical between them.”

“Still, an emotional affair can hurt just as much.” Frigga smiled. “I would also ask _why_ it would matter if things had been physical between them, if there is no physical relationship between you, unless you wish to claim that you share your father’s prejudice of mortals? You threatened to kill her when you saw what she meant to Thor. It is rather clear you feel a claim upon Thor.”

Loki jumped upright. He wiped again at his mouth, before he paced back and forth. The slight stoop to his posture made him seem younger than his years, as he clasped his hands behind his back, and his eyes remained fixed down on the ground. It was eerily like Odin, even with the same snarled sound that escaped his lips. Frigga stood slowly. The ache to her joints brought a small hiss of breath, while she forced her chin upright and held her hands neatly before her, and she followed him with her gaze, even as he gesticulated wildly at no one in particular.

“You are aware what will happen if you break this spell on you, Loki?” Frigga sighed. “It is a powerful spell, and almost identical to what is cast on Helblindi. The spell binds you to an Asgardian physiology, lest you come into contact with extreme cold, and that means that it prevents you from being able to carry young and decreases your fertility on the whole.”

“I never wanted children anyway, Mother.”

“No, and that raises two problems. The first is that you wish to eventually assume your true form, which means that you will be more at risk of carrying a child, and the second is that Thor wishes for a large family . . . not to mention such a union would be illegal. If he is uncovered in a relationship with his brother, it would make him ineligible for the crown. It would also risk his reputation. He could well lose his friends and even his family over such matters.”

Loki stopped dead. He stood just before her with shoulders slumped. The skin about his face paled and his lips fell into a frown, as he ran his hands through his hair, and – with a low growl – the fingers gripped hard and pulled as if to wrench out locks from scalp. A few tears pricked at his eyes, distorted the green into a strange shape and shade. Frigga held onto his arm. The touch induced a low exhale, as he turned to her with trembling lips and shaking limbs. He pressed his hands together, as if in prayer or plea, and asked in a low and broken voice:

“What happens if I ask to be formally disowned?”

“You would devastate your father,” said Frigga. “He would feel as if he failed you, as well as that he has lost a son he so adored, and he would have huge concerns as to the cause for such a request, with more concerns again on hearing the reason. I know what he would ask: is it a consensual union, when did it begin, and whether you are aware of the risks?”

“Mother, I just –”

“No, let me finish, Loki. In Jotunheim, adoption is a permanent and irrevocable process. This means that you will always be Odin’s Son by their laws, and Thor will always be seen as a brother to you by their religious and cultural beliefs, as such you would never be able to share rooms on Jotunheim or engage in public displays of affection. You would not be able to have a legal union. You would not be allowed to raise a child together there.”

“Well, children are off the cards anyway.”

“Are they? Thor will be expected to provide an heir to secure his throne. The laws here will allow for an adoption to be annulled, which means that you could be disowned and seen as Laufey’s Son, and you may avoid _some_ social stigma, as there are many who abide by the old prejudice that you are not ‘really’ the Son of Odin, but you would have to accept that you would need to provide an heir or allow for Thor to use a surrogate or keep a mistress.

“Even if you were willing to let another bear his child, what about the childrearing process itself? Do you plan to be a step-parent? Do you plan to adopt the child? If it is the very act of raising a child that abhors you, you could permanently damage that child mentally by refusing to have any part of their life and alienate Thor in the process. How would such a relationship survive?”

Frigga squeezed at his arm again and whispered: _‘think this through’_. The silence between them was broken only by the crackling of the fire, along with the soft music from the lower floors, and his choked breaths that bordered on hyperventilation. He slid down onto the sofa, where the cushions dipped beneath his weight. He rested his arms upon his knees. The firelight caught against the sweat on his brow and tears on his cheeks, and Frigga forced her body to kneel before him, as she took his hands in a soft hold and interlocked their fingers. He choked out:

“I don’t know, but don’t we owe it a chance?”

“If this goes wrong, Loki, then –”

“I know; I’d have given up my family for nothing.” Loki shrugged. “You could always adopt me again, right? I believe you can even adopt a ‘child’ after the death of a partner, so even if Father doesn’t survive, you could still claim me under his name after the fact . . . it’s a thought.”

“Loki, parenthood isn’t something to be discarded and used according to convenience. If you wish to change the laws here, you must set an example to your people, and provide a reason why the laws must be changed. Your actions could allow for Odin to make adoption a permanent process, and to shift the way our people see the act of adoption, but if he disowns you publicly -?”

“I – I don’t _want_ to be disowned . . . it’s just an idea . . .”

Frigga brought his hands to her lips. A gentle kiss was placed to the knuckles, as she squeezed again and tilted her head upward to his direction, and Loki opened his mouth as if to speak, before he slowly stood to his feet and helped her to stand. Frigga swayed a little, enough for him to jolt forward with wide eyes and a call for the guards already half-formed. A single raised finger to her lips silenced him. Frigga moved him slightly to the side, away from the fire, and smoothed and fussed about his hair. He batted away her hands, as she asked:

“If Thor is not your brother, am I not your mother?”

Loki pouted, as she lightly tapped his cheek in a mock slap. He let loose a loud breath, as she continued to smooth at his hair and fix his collar, and finally – as she stopped – he pulled her into a warm embrace, as she laughed and whispered: ‘still the small boy that clung to my skirts’. Loki pulled back. He sighed and wiped at his eyes, while he sniffed and rolled back his shoulders, and Frigga clasped her hands to her chest, as she nodded slowly toward him. Loki shrugged, before he resumed his pacing and waved a hand in her vague direction.

“You would always be my mother,” whispered Loki.

“Then your relationship with Thor would always be incest.” Frigga blinked back tears. “I beg you to think of this before you make a decision, but I would plead with you never to tell your father – or ask for a disownment – unless you were completely certain that you no longer wish to be a member of this family . . . it would break his heart and destroy him, Loki.”

“I know. I think . . . I think that I’ll talk about it with Thor. I just know that we want very different things, and you will always be my mother and father, and Thor will always be my brother, but I also can’t hide the fact there is something between us . . .”

“It is something that cannot go anywhere, as you want different things.”

“Maybe he’ll change his mind,” said Loki.

“Will you change yours?”

Loki opened his mouth to speak. The doors to the chambers opened wide, preventing any and all speech, as Thor burst inside with such laughter that it penetrated every inch of the room. He strode towards them with a fast pace and half-ran the last distance towards them, before he snatched at Frigga’s waist and spun her around high above. Thor put her down and chuckled out an apology, before clasping a hand on the back of Loki’s neck and light-heartedly slapping at his shoulder. Loki sniffed and pulled away, as Thor asked with a frown:

“Am I interrupting something?”

A low sigh escaped Frigga, as she walked to Thor and stood at his side. He took her hands and whispered a childlike ‘what’, as she pressed a kiss to his cheek, and slowly returned to Loki’s side, as Thor continued to look between them and ask ‘what’ several times over. Loki was cool to the touch, as she took his hands and pressed a kiss to his cheek in turn. He remained silent. The music quietened in the distance, while the fire lessened in its intensity, and Loki cast his eye over to Thor, as if Frigga were no longer present. She leaned into his ear and whispered:

“Think about this carefully, my son.”

Thor finally fell quiet. He stepped back to provide some space, as his previous smiles fell solemn, and he ran a hand over the back of his neck, while a faint apology fell from his lips. Frigga let her hand linger on Loki’s arm, before it finally fell free as she slipped away towards the main doors. Thor and Loki remained fixed in place, neither one making a move, even as her hand pressed the handle down and opened the door. A small draught blew through, catching at her hair, as she turned to Loki one last time and whispered in a low voice:

“I know you’ll do what’s right . . .”


	9. Part 2

“Stay, Loki . . .”

A firm hand took his wrist. The callused fingers brushed against his skin. It was a gentle touch, one that Loki could have broken from with little effort, but the thumb traced light patterns against his palm and the rough skin warmed his muscles. Thor tugged several times. Loki was forced back several steps, until the backs of his knees touched against the mattress, and he was pulled back into bed against sweat-soaked sheets. He landed on bare buttocks.

Thor crawled behind him, as the bed dipped with his weight. He spread his legs and placed them either side of Loki, as he pulled that cool back against a warm chest, and Loki – with a sigh – instinctively leaned into the intimate hold, while Thor wrapped his arms around his waist. The stubble on Thor’s chin and cheek scratched at his neck. A trail of kisses ran along the long column of skin, pausing only to suckle or bite and leave visible marks, and Loki reached back to bury his hand deep into the blond locks. He held tight as a breathless sigh escaped him.

“Now isn’t the time for a round two,” muttered Loki.

A small chuckle reverberated out from Thor’s throat. It vibrated down Loki’s shoulder, while the deep sound tickled at his ear-drum, and a hand slowly slid down his chest and stomach, until it brushed against the base of his penis. Loki groaned. He swatted away the hand, before slowly extricating himself from the warm embrace. Loki slid away into a standing position, before he turned and pushed Thor back against the bed, and – as Thor obediently reclined – Loki raised a finger in a warning wag to keep him in place. A faint smile broke over Thor, as he licked his lips.

“I’m serious, Thor,” said Loki. “We need to talk.” 

The fresh air was refreshing on bare skin, as Loki lifted his arms high above him. He stretched and contorted with a low moan. Thor was half-erect when he slid along the sheets, and he reclined on his half of the bed with fingers clasped behind his head, while blown pupils betrayed his state of arousal. Loki climbed across the mattress and sat astride him. The growing erection nestled warmly between still wet buttocks, and a pair of hands returned to his waist, as Thor sat upright and kissed at the base of his neck with further laughter. Thor whispered:

“I thought you wanted to talk?”

“I _do_ ,” said Loki.

“Well, it’s rather hard to focus with my dick between your cheeks.”

A dark blush broke over Loki’s cheeks. He pushed at Thor’s forehead with his finger, which forced him back into a reclining position, and Loki slowly slid away and lay on his side beside Thor, where he rested his head on his hand. The cool air brought goose-bumps to his naked frame, and a draught blew in from the open door that led into the lounge. Loki half-closed his eyes, as ravens cawed from the balcony and a woman sang from a balcony above them, and – even with the world carrying on around them – it felt like the world between those four walls was theirs alone. Thor reached out to brush a stray lock of black hair away, as he asked:

“What’s there to talk about, Loki?”

“How about that Mother knows about us, Thor? Mother _knows_.” Loki ran his hands over his face. “I know you’re relieved that she took the news so well, but she’s had _centuries_ to process this news and Father only has weeks at best . . . how about the fact that I think she’s right, too? I don’t want him to know about this . . . about us . . . not if it ruins what little time is left.”

“He might understand,” muttered Thor.

“Oh, please! You can’t even look me in the eye as you say that. This is the man that exiled his son for one reckless act, and the same man that confessed he would have sent his other son to the dungeons had a compromise not been found with Jotunheim! How do you think he’d react to the fact that we’re breaking the law and committing a sin? He would be furious.

“If he had centuries or even decades left -?” Loki shook his head. “I sometimes feel he hates me for what I did to Jotunheim; he’s never put it into so many words, but I see the sadness that fills his eyes whenever someone mentions what happened that day, and how he refuses to look at me when I talk about the destruction on Jotunheim. It’s been six months, but he’s still disappointed in me and he’s still trying to make amends with me however he can, and . . .

“Thor, he – he’s doing that because something is broken between us! He wants to fix it, and I appreciate him taking on his Jotun form and coming clean to our people, but why then add one more obstacle when we have so many already? What if we finally get over this, only for him to then spend his last few moments with a _new_ sadness and disappointment instead?”

Loki threw himself onto his back. He stared upward at the mural upon the ceiling; the faces of their ancestors stared down at them, along with heroes of legend, and the colours were as vivid as when they were first painted as children. The two small beds were now one large bed, and the pillow forts and toys were replaced with clothes and weapons. Loki winced. He lifted a hand towards one of the figures above, only to drop it with a thud back at his side. Thor sighed and slid his arm towards him, before entwining their fingers and holding their hands between them.

“He could have many years left, Loki,” whispered Thor. “I don’t want our last moments with him to be difficult, but I also don’t want to put our life on hold just to make life easier for someone else, especially when we’ve waited so long already. We can’t be held responsible for the actions of others, especially when this is a harmless act. It’s not fair on us.”

“We waited this long. What does a few more years matter?”

“Because it’s pointless for us to suffer! We could come out now, have the disownment, and be allowed to legally be an item . . . if Father would rather dwell in anger than accept our love -? I think that’s a sad thing indeed, but it’s his own doing and nothing to do with us.”

Loki yanked away his hand. He swung himself back around, until his bare feet pressed against the cold tiles of the floor, and pressed his fingers to his temples. Thor made to roll in his direction, but a raised hand stopped him in his tracks. The quiet between them was broken with small hisses of breath, while his heart pounded an awful rhythm in his ears, and Loki slowly stood with a roll of his shoulders. He snatched at his green pyjamas that lay crumpled on the floor, and pulled them on with violent curses and muttered complaints.

“Let’s forget he could disown us _both_ ,” spat Loki. “Hell, let’s forget that we could be exiled! I’m sure spending a lifetime on Midgard would be thrilling, maybe I could take up a job as a professor of Icelandic History and you could work as a body-builder. It’ll be fun. I’m sure we can revisit all the old haunts of Laufey and Odin during the big battles, hmm?

“He could even have us executed, but – let’s face it – he’d probably try to assign blame to _one_ of us in order to protect his ego and continue his legacy. I wonder which son he’d choose to keep? Well, on the one hand, you were always his favourite, but on the other hand . . . he’s always seen me as a diplomat and a tactician first and foremost. If he assumes the relationship was non-consensual, he would assume you to be the aggressor being the ‘strongest’ of the pair.”

“He . . . He wouldn’t think either of us capable of rape, Loki.”

“No? Incest is far from normal. The very first instinct will be to try and ‘explain’ it away, which will either be you forcing yourself on me or me spelling you in some manner, and he will lash out, because he is the sort to feel first and think second. Do you know what’s worse than having the Nine Realms think that I was raped by my brother? It would be the news being that it’s such a shock that it kills him dead on the spot, like how my outburst triggered the last Odinsleep.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” said Thor.

“Oh, wasn’t it?” Loki rapidly blinked. “I – I spent my time at his bedside with only one thought, Thor . . . _‘he thinks I hate him’_. . . I was terrified that he would die thinking that I hated him for the lies he told and the secrets he kept! Do you want him to die worrying about who consented to who, how the people will react to such a scandal, or how he’s to punish us for breaking the law, lest he set a bad precedent to the Nine Realms? Do you want him to die with that over him?”

Loki clasped his hands behind his neck. He tilted back his head with a long exhale of breath, as the tears pricked at his eyes and distorted his vision, and – with a broken laugh – he snatched at his dressing gown on the back of a dressing table. Thor said nothing, even as he pulled on the gown in preparation for his inevitable departure. Loki turned back to the bed. He knotted the tie to his gown, before he sat on the edge of the bed, and Thor slid across the bed until they were close enough to touch. Thor took his hand and pressed a kiss to its back, as Loki whispered:

“If he dies, I want him to die at peace and feeling loved.”

“He knows we love him,” said Thor. “I concede your point, though. If we’re caught breaking the law then his hands are tied . . . he either disowns one of us, or he must punish one of us, but he can’t change the law _for_ us without untold ramifications.”

“Precisely, so think with your head and not with your dick for once.”

“How about I think with my heart instead?”

The smile brought lines to Thor’s eyes. It was enough for Loki to soften his stance, as he dropped his shoulders and let loose a long exhale of breath, and – with a smile in turn – he squeezed at Thor’s hand, before he kissed at each and every knuckle. Thor pulled at him, as he tried to guide him back onto the mattress. Loki sighed. He let himself be guided against the sheets, only for Thor to hold him in a platonic embrace and rub loose circles on his lower back. It was a gentle hold, complete with soft kisses to his scalp, and Thor whispered to him:

“Even if we don’t go public now, I still don’t want to hide in the shadows forever.”

“I – I think that’s what we need to talk about, too,” choked Loki.

Loki slid away from Thor. He walked slowly towards the chair by the dressing table, where he dropped down and leaned against its back with his arm, and – with a raised finger – warned Thor once again to keep his distance. A low grunt was the only response. Thor glared towards Loki, as he jumped out of bed and attempted to snatch at stray items of clothing about the room. He accumulated a small pile, which were thrown onto the sheets, before he marched over to the water basin and started to wash away the sweat and semen from their exertions. He spat out:

“You don’t ever want to go public, do you?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘never’,” said Loki. “I would simply say ‘it depends’. If we go public, it would only work if we’re publicly disowned first and foremost . . . sure, we can do that after Father passes, avoiding upsetting him when he’s so weak, but -? I’d _need_ to know that this is a relationship that can last forever first, to make such a sacrifice worth the cost.”

“What makes you think we couldn’t work, Loki?”

“You need an heir, Thor. You want children.” Loki shrugged. “I don’t. If we go public before we’ve reached a compromise, it could well be that we break-up in the long run and I’m left with no family and no romantic partner . . . I’d have lost everything with nothing to show for it! I’m not going to change my mind about children. I’ve never wanted them, even when I _was_ a child.”

“Okay, well . . . if we can agree to the child dilemma, would you be willing to at least consider asking Mother to disown you so that we could be together? I don’t mind waiting for you, Loki, but only if I know this I going somewhere. I don’t want to wait forever, either.”

“I know, and I wouldn’t expect you to wait forever, but . . .”

“But what? If I can help in some way -?”

Loki shook his head. Thor continued to rub at his muscles with a wet cloth, leaving a rather sensuous sheen that emphasised his muscles and curves, and – as his hand went ever lower – Loki turned his head away with a blush. The sloshes of water echoed out about the bedroom, while the noises from outside faded slowly away until silence pervaded. Thor tossed the cloth back into the basin, before he returned to his bed and slowly redressed, and not once did he look in Loki’s direction, even as Loki sighed and ran his hands over his face. Loki muttered:

“I need you to realise why disownment is a last resort.”

“I never expected it to be the first resort.”

“Look, I was angry after you left me on Jotunheim,” said Loki. “The first night alone was the worst. I hated my rooms, and I hated the view, and I hated no one would come to see me, so I couldn’t even vent or whine or complain. I was alone, but . . . Mother came to visit with an illusion of her form. I believe she used the water basin in her dressing room. I felt less alone . . .”

“What has this to do with asking to be disowned?”

“I was furious that Father would agree to Helblindi’s terms! I screamed and wept until I could barely stand, and over and over she kept defending him . . . _‘he did what was best for you’ . . . ‘this was the only option’ . . . ‘he’s your father, Loki’_. Ah, that last one sat badly with me. I lashed out in a moment of weakness and said he was no father of mine . . . do you know what she asked in return? It was just one simple question: ‘am I then not your mother’?”

Thor paused. He stood with his undershirt half on his chest, as he cast his eyes towards Loki for the first time since leaving the bed, and quickly finished pulling it down, as he resumed adding the rest of his layers and accessories. Loki came to stand beside him. He took one of the leather vambraces and held it outward, and Thor – with a sigh – extended his arm and allowed Loki to finish dressing him, while they locked gazes and remained quiet. No more words were exchanged, until Thor was fully dressed, at which point he cupped two cheeks and asked:

“What did you say to her?”

“I said ‘no’, Thor,” said Loki. “I said ‘no’.”

Loki slid away from the soft hold, as he headed back into the lounge. The balcony doors stood wide open, with thousands of lights twinkling on the landscape, and it was a far cry from the complete darkness of Jotunheim. Loki busied himself by tidying the lounge. Thor came to stand in the doorway between both rooms, while he watched Loki move cushions and books and decorations into a perfect sense of order. It brought back memories of their childhood, where different approaches to ‘mess’ often led to many arguments and sleepless nights.

“You feel guilty,” said Thor.

“I regretted it as soon as I said it,” muttered Loki. “Mother left. I saw the sheer disappointment in her eyes, and I knew then that ‘mother’ and ‘father’ were more than just labels . . . they were a sign to the world of our acknowledgment and respect for one another. The love and bonds we share may never change, and so I know why you would think something like a disownment a trivial matter, but . . . it’s not trivial, not to me. It’s hard to put into words, Brother.”

“Will you try? I want to understand you, Loki.”

“Do you remember how you would call your trainers ‘Sir’? Do you hear how the servants call you ‘your highness’? Do you ever remember a time where you didn’t call Odin ‘Father’? I know there is something to be said about ‘a rose by any other name’, but there is also something about giving people the due respect of their titles and recognising our relationships. The fact also remains that people take their leads in how to treat us by how we treat each other . . .

“If the servants started to call you ‘Thor’, it would trigger disrespect and they would see you as an equal, and eventually they would cease to obey your commands. If you started to call your teachers by their first names, wouldn’t you soon take more liberties? My fear is that by being disowned . . .” Loki sighed. “I fear people would stop seeing me as his son in turn.”

“But you would know the truth . . .”

“Aye, but I also don’t want to spend my life _defending_ and _justifying_ our bond to others. It’s not their place to question our love for one another! How _dare_ they assume that I’m not his son just because some other sperm donor gave me life? How _dare_ they make me seem like a second-best child simply as another person carried me? I have to fight for my status now, but if I’m disowned then I’d effectively be giving up and saying: ‘you’re right, I’m not his son’.”

Loki twisted a cushion in his hands. The stuffing threatened to pop from the seams, as his knuckles turned white and his nails scratched lines onto the fabric. Thor came behind him. The cushion was gently removed from his hands and tossed aside, and a pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around his waist, while soft kisses returned to his neck. Loki leaned back against the broad chest, where he half-closed his eyes and breathed deep the earthy scent of his brother. They swayed together as if to some unheard tune, until Loki confessed in a low voice:

“I _want_ for us to be together, but I _need_ to be acknowledged as his son.”

“I will admit, I don’t think I fully understand . . .”

“I don’t think anyone can understand,” said Loki. “I think it’s something you can only understand if you’ve been adopted, or if you’ve a different set of biological parents, but I fight prejudice day after day after day . . . more so for this than for being an _ergi_ or Jotun. If I have to fight for anything, it’ll be for the laws on adoption to be more like Jotunheim, and –”

“And you can’t improve things for others by giving up on yourself.”

“I know it shouldn’t be on me to be a spokesperson, but I also know that I _can’t_ deny Odin and Frigga without denying a part of myself . . . they raised me, loved me, and disciplined me . . . I wouldn’t be who I am today without them, so disownment feels dishonest.”

“It wouldn’t change the objective truth . . .”

“But it would be a slap in the face to say ‘you did everything a parent should, but that’s still not enough to keep your status as a parent’. It’s like saying . . . it’s like . . . I guess it’s like saying that only a biological bond makes a parent, and it reinforces that prejudice, and then people start seeing me as _Laufey’s_ son, even though I would kill him again in an instant.”

Loki slowly turned around, so that his hands rested on pectoral muscles. He pressed a chaste kiss to those still swollen lips, where he caught the taste of something that brought a blush to his cheeks, and – pulling back – Loki made his way towards the main doors. Thor followed, until Loki pressed his hands against the cold metal of the door-handles. A firm grip spun him around and rough fingers buried themselves into his hair, as Thor forced a deep and passionate kiss, before pulling back just enough to gasp out a breathless and broken:

“If you want to keep this secret for now -?”

“Thank you, Thor,” said Loki.

The door swung wide open. The bright light brought a hiss from Loki, who shielded his eyes and stepped out into the corridor, where a passing servant nodded to his neck and muttered about having to report any fights to the Allfather. Loki touched at his neck, only to wince and blush at the realisation a love-bite poked out just above his collar. Thor stifled a chuckle. He stepped out into the corridor and waved away the servant, while he adjusted the collar and hide the bruise, and – with a smile – leaned closer until his lips were nearly pressed to Loki’s ear.

“I love you, Loki,” whispered Thor.

“I love you, too, my sweet.”

* * *

_Helblindi waved his hand over the basin. The image of Loki faded from view, leaving only his blue eyes staring back at him from the waters, and – with a sigh – Helblindi slapped at the surface and distorted his reflection, until his image became something unrecognisable. The children laughed and giggled in the rooms behind him, as Agnar tended to them and sang songs that reminded him of his childhood, and Byleistr sneaked out of the nursery with the fatigue unique to a father. He noticed Helblindi and did a double-take, as he asked:_

_‘You’re still watching Loki?’_

_A low sigh fell from Helblindi, as he returned to the sofa in the lounge. The small house in the village was filled with noise, as a faucet dripped within the kitchen and wind blew in from beneath the doorway, and Helblindi pulled the blankets back over his lower body. The snow piled outside, building against the side wall until it stood taller than a man. It would be difficult to return to Útgarðar come morning, but more so to slink away before his nephews could cry on his absence. Helblindi pushed back a lock of black hair and half-smiled._

_‘He seems happy,’ said Helblindi._

_‘Oh? So then why so sad?’_

_Agnar finally emerged from the nursery. The children seemed quiet, but there were bags beneath his eyes and his mouth was wide in a heavy yawn. He paused beside Byleistr to press a kiss to his cheek, before he whispered something into his ear and walked away, and Byleistr – with a smirk plastered on his lip – followed every step of Agnar, as he headed into the bedroom. Helblindi shook his head with a soft laugh. He reclined on the sofa, where he buried his head into the pillows and waved at Byleistr, who dawdled between brother and husband._

_‘I suppose because it can only end badly,’ sighed Helblindi. ‘He’s my cousin, Brother. I don’t want to see him hurt, but . . . he’ll have to either give up his love or give up his family. There’s a small part of me that wants him to have it all . . . to have everything . . .’_

_‘Because you want him to have what you can’t . . .’_

_A frown fell about Helblindi, as he heard giggles from the nursery. He rolled onto his side and looked about the dark room, where family photographs and school projects littered every surface, and – as he swallowed back the lump in his throat – he forced a bright smile. Helblindi rolled onto his stomach and placed his hands beneath his chin. Byleistr was slowly edging towards the master bedroom, where his steps were less than subtle, and it brought laughter sincere and loud from Helblindi. He pointed to the bedroom and nodded in its direction._

_‘You don’t have to play the perfect host on my account. Go have some fun.’_

_‘Are you still planning on leaving before sunup?’_

_‘I think so,’ chirped Helblindi. ‘I may even visit Ingvar on my way back.’_

_Byleistr cast his eye back to the water basin. A few splashes of water were already turning to ice on the stone floor, while the clear waters no longer reflected anything back than the small room, and his smile faltered for the briefest of seconds, before it returned. It failed to quite reach his eyes, as he walked towards the master bedroom and waved his hand at Helblindi. He paused at the door and looked back. He heaved a deep breath and whispered:_

_‘Don’t torture yourself with what you can’t have, Brother.’_

_The door closed. Helblindi was left to the silence . . ._


	10. Part 3

Loki stood out against the snow. The blue of his skin looked brighter against the white, while the wind caught at his long locks and sent them fluttering outward, and – as he turned – the setting sun behind him framed his face and gave him a beautiful glow. He smiled. It brought lines to the corners of his red eyes, as he turned to face Thor directly with hands on his hips. The leather coat had not changed at all throughout the years, but the tunic and trousers were made of a rougher material and more Jotun in style, albeit of a high-fashion rarely seen about the people.

“You look beautiful,” said Thor.

Thor walked toward him . . . slowly at first, as if unsure of his steps. He picked up his pace, quickening his movements, until he broke out into an outright run. Thor threw out his hands. He caught at Loki’s waist, just as Loki’s hands dropped onto his broad shoulders, and soon Loki was spun around with several grand twirls. The laughter from Loki was loud and warm, but it soon died to be replaced with a long sigh. The previous smile was replaced with a frown.

Thor dropped Loki back onto the snow. It crunched underfoot, as Loki took a step back towards the boulder by the outcrop, and he rested gloved hands against its surface. The landscape before them was unrecognisable from his past few visits. A series of well-travelled roads lined the snowy climes, and various new villages had cropped up at various points, where travellers stopped to refresh or refuel. Útgarðar remained hidden in the distance, lost behind the protective mountains, but a few developing skyscrapers peeked above the mountaintops. Loki teased:

“I would have settled on ‘handsome’, so you’re aware.”

It was Thor’s time to laugh, as he wandered towards Loki. The snow behind him still smouldered, where the Bifrost had struck its usual point, and construction workers paused in the distance to watch them, just a mile or so from the landing point. The Bridge of Winters was set to put the Rainbow Bridge to shame, and Byleistr was just visible as he pointed to various spots and directed the men about their business. Thor kept a small distance between him and Loki, as he avoided the usual intimacy, but – with a brotherly nudge to the side – he asked warmly:

“If you had told me six years ago that we’d be here today -?”

“You would have called me a liar and defamed the Jotuns in the process.”

“Aye, perhaps,” laughed Thor. “I wake up some days wondering where time has gone. I still feel the same small boy at heart . . . I still want to shirk my duties for adventure, I still long for a hug when I feel sad . . . no one tells you that adulthood is just a new set of responsibilities, but that age itself brings no change of self to make you better equipped to handle them.”

“Maybe that’s why people always say ‘children having children’.”

“I could believe it, Loki. Sif and Fandral are soon to be wed, but the stories that I could tell you about them in their youth would make a hardened soldier blush! I always looked to those older than us and assumed a natural state of wisdom that came with age, but now I look to them and see people exactly like me, except with a few more grey hairs. They’re just going about life with the same doubts and fears and improvising as they go along, too. It’s shocking.”

“Hmm, I sometimes think that ‘wisdom’ is just the ability to _hide_ your weaknesses and ignorance. We pretend to have everything under control, so that the younger generation won’t panic and feel as if there is no control, and all we do is create a cycle of belief that adulthood automatically confers a sense of purpose and said wisdom. I wonder if this is how Father felt.”

“Maybe, but I always felt comfort in having him always there . . .”

“A person to take the reins . . . a person to give advice . . .”

“A person to assume control when there is none . . .”

“A person to make right all our wrongs . . .”

Thor sighed. It fell heavy from his lips. He ran a callused hand over his bearded face, while he kicked at the snow with the heel of his boot. The memories of his first visit to Jotunheim were still vivid . . . _a few stray guards around him, the thrill of a fight, a rush of adrenaline as Sleipner appeared from the skies . . . safety in his father’s presence . . ._ Thor looked down at the disturbed snow underfoot. It brought a sad smile, as he tried to kick it back into a smooth and unmarred state, but it remained ever imperfect. He asked in a low whisper:

“Do you think he would be proud of me?”

Loki folded his arms across his chest. He tilted his head toward Thor, before his eyes slowly raked over Thor from feet to head. The expression was impassive, as impossible to read as Helblindi or Frigga, and the frown returned to those soft cheeks, where it brought the shimmer of unshed tears to his red eyes. Loki half-smiled. He placed a hand on Thor’s upper-arm, before he stepped toward the main road and let his hand slowly fall away, as he whispered:

“I think he made the right choice making you king, Thor.”

He walked away with a slow and steady pace, while Thor followed closed behind. The wind seemed weaker in the open space, as if the vast hills and boulders and structures before had channelled it in intensity, and yet it still brought shivers to Loki, who still seemed to prefer Asgardian climates despite the regular winters spent in Útgarðar. Thor smiled, as he muttered: _‘only you could sweat in Asgard and freeze in Jotunheim’_. Loki rolled his eyes. Thor threw an arm around his shoulders and tried to keep balance on the icy road, as he asked:

“Will Helblindi mind that you’re coming home early?”

“After six winters here, I’m sure he can spare me for just one season.” Loki sighed. “It’s an exceptional circumstance, and I can always make up for lost time. In any case, Helblindi wishes to pay his respects . . . it’ll be strange to have him there with Byleistr, especially as Byleistr is already so excited by the prospect of visiting Asgard for the first time.”

“Really? I didn’t think they would be that bothered.”

“Well, Helblindi is highly educated and fascinated by other cultures. He’s more excited to finally have an excuse to change his wardrobe than anything else, but Byleistr is fascinated by stereotypes that he thinks are true . . . like whether he’ll be forced to eat dogs or cats.”

“They think we eat domestic pets?”

“It could be worse; during the war, they were told we ate Vanaheim babies.”

Thor stopped. Loki continued for a few steps, until the absence of the arm drew his attention. He half-turned to face Thor, while he forced his collar high to keep out the cold, and – with a sigh – marched back to Thor with back slightly hunched, as his arms folded about his chest. A few small children ran past them, while a teenage boy towered over them and pointed towards the construction site just a mile ahead. He carried a box filled with food.

The children ran with energy unique to the young. The older boy ran after them with a groan, while saluting to Loki as he made his way past, and soon he was far in the distance, while Thor was left scratching at his neck with a low hum. Loki muttered that the boy was Ingvar. Thor did a double-take, as he stared after the teenager with an open mouth, and time had certainly doubled his size and changed his demeanour. He stayed still for some time, but – as he looked back – Loki was already some distance ahead. Thor ran back to his side and asked:

“You were joking about the eating babies thing, right?”

“Sadly, I’m not,” replied Loki. “Think about what _we_ were told, Thor. We were made to believe that the Jotuns were monsters to be feared, and taught racist stereotypes about them. Hell, you wet the bed one night, because you thought that the Jotun would eat you if you broke curfew!”

“That wasn’t helped by you growling outside my door and casting shadows!”

“I have no recollection of the event in question.”

The smirk betrayed the statement. It was the same smirk that Loki wore during his pranks, where he would press his lips together until there were a thin line, and his head would nod as if the laughter had to be expressed somewhere, while the glint in his eyes sparkled bright. The last time he smirked like that was before his breakdown. Thor smiled. He took in a deep breath to hold back the urge to tease or fight, but instead draped his arm around those shoulders. The barely suppressed laughter could be felt through his jerking body, even as Thor muttered:

“Is it just Helblindi and Byleistr coming with you to Asgard?”

“Hmm, I believe Helblindi will bring Magni, but Agnar will stay here to watch Steinn and Fannar,” said Loki. “There is something about Jotunheim law that forbids all potential heirs from travelling at the same time and to the same place. If we harmed those in attendance in Asgard, Helblindi’s nephews would live and thus be able to assume the throne in his place.”

“So I’ll finally be able to see Magni?”

“You’re _not_ still taking that personally, are you?”

“Do I take it personally that I can’t meet my own infant cousin? Let me think . . .”

“Helblindi is only a few centuries our senior, Thor.” Loki shrugged. “He might seem young, but he’s spent his entire life longing for a family and adores children. Do you know what it’s like to be biracial, especially in a place like Jotunheim? He never thought that he would be able to have children, so he’s . . . protective. You know that even _I_ wasn’t allowed to touch Magni until his first birthday, right? Steinn and Fannar couldn’t play with him, either.”

“What kind of life is that, though? Helblindi can’t keep the poor boy locked in the palaces forever, and it’s not fair to deny family and friends the right to see him. He’s not always going to be five years old, and one day he’ll resent being wrapped in cotton wool, and on that day he’ll rebel far worse than we ever did, and we were a nightmare!”

“Speak for yourself,” muttered Loki.

“I’m just saying that if he were my son, I’d show him off!”

Thor broke into a bright smile. He turned his head back to the construction site, where the children played with their fathers and laughed with excitement at sharing a home-cooked meal on the snow. Despite the vast distance between them, Thor could imagine the pride in the fathers’ voices . . . _‘did you make this, really?’, ‘did you get permission to visit?’, ‘I’m so happy that you came to brighten my day’_. . . he tore his eyes away with a frown. Loki winced. He reached up to entwine his fingers with the hand that dangled from his shoulder, as he whispered:

“I still don’t want children, Thor.”

A cold silence fell between them. Thor brushed his thumb along Loki’s knuckle, as white met blue in a beautiful mixture of shades, and a saddened smile failed to quite reach Loki’s eyes, as a faint _‘I’m sorry’_ echoed out in a quiet voice. A vehicle zoomed past them, while the wind picked up in speed and strength. It caught at the snow across the landscape. The effect was disorientating, as if the ground itself was covered in a strange static.

“You said you’d reconsider after Father passed,” whispered Thor.

“I – I know, but do you think _now_ is an appropriate time to bring this up?”

Loki slid his hand away from Thor, before placing them on his hips. He shrugged away the arm around his shoulders, as he increased the distance between them by a foot or so, and he continued a quick pace, until they reached the small commuting village just outside Útgarðar. The tavern heaved with people. A few milled about outside, but most moved to and fro out of the main doors, and a small path marked the way to Útgarðar, well-trodden and defined.

A huge memorial marked the midway point between the two locations. It was an abstract sculpture that stood three times as high as the tallest Jotun, but designed in such a way that it looked different depending on the side one stood, and its true form could only be discerned from a high vantage point. The red-and-blue colour scheme was reminiscent of the bodies of the dead that once lined the fields, covered with only a red blanket, and various wreaths and fruits and letters littered the area around the plaque, where thousands of names were written.

“I get that your friends are all growing up around you,” said Loki. “Sif and Fandral are going to be married, Hogun has a beautiful family, and Volstagg is about to be a grandfather. Byleistr has adorable children, while even Helblindi now has a son, but . . . I’m in no position to plan for a future right now. I also still haven’t changed my mind. I still don’t want children.”

“I’m sorry, you’re right . . . now isn’t the time to have this discussion.”

“I feel pressured, Thor. I want nothing more than to be with you, and I would be honoured to be your consort, too, but . . . I feel you’re too short-sighted! You present option after option for us being together, and I’m grateful you even offered to be disowned in my place, too, but all of this means _nothing_ unless we both want the same things from a relationship.”

“Well, _why_ don’t you want children?”

“Why does everyone ask why I _don’t_?” Loki shook his head. “Why are children such a default expectation that no one ever asks why someone _would_ want a child? Why am I forced to justify my choice? Why aren’t you expected to real off a list of reasons why a child is a good idea? I am telling you that I am never going to want to be a parent, and that’s all that matters.”

Thor stopped. They were not far from the tavern. A few guards patrolled the village, while a few of the locals already looked in their direction at the obvious white face, and Thor – with a curse – gently grabbed at Loki’s wrist and pulled him aside behind a stable. The view of Útgarðar was blocked, along with the memorial monument, and Thor pressed Loki flush against the rough stone wall, until a blush crossed over his cheeks and he stepped back. Loki smiled. He peeked around the corner to double-check they were alone, even as Thor mumbled:

“You might change your mind in the next four-thousand years.”

“Will you change yours?”

“No, but that’s –”

“ _Don’t_. Don’t say that it’s somehow different!” Loki glared. “Look, if you want to make compromises, I’m willing to make compromises in turn . . . if you are willing to be the one disowned, I’ll be willing to give birth _providing_ that I am not expected to be a father. I will not change diapers or feed it or spend time alone with it, but I’ll birth it for you.”

“That’s completely unreasonable, Loki, and you know it!”

“Well, it’s the best offer you’ll get from me.”

Thor paced back and forth. He trod the snow flat underfoot, while Loki adjusted his clothing, and the stables blocked the worst of the wind from them. A few stray snowflakes dusted the long black hair, like stars on a night sky, but they disappeared when Loki ran his hands through the curly locks that reached his lower shoulder-blades. Thor tented his hands before his face, as he forced through long and slow breaths. Tears pricked at his eyes. He turned and waved a trembling hand toward Loki, as he choked out through half-smiling lips:

“You’re so good with children, Loki.”

“Yes, and I adore them,” admitted Loki. “If I’m honest, it’s easier to feign hatred of them. It’s still a nuisance, as people will say ‘it’ll be different when it’s your own’, but it’s a _lot_ easier than that instant ‘aw’ sound and the insistence that love of them is a sign you should be a father. The fact is it’s easier to tend to a child that you can return than to one that’s your sole responsibility.”

“We would share that responsibility, wouldn’t we?”

“I don’t want to even _share_ it, Thor! Look, you visit Jotunheim often, yes?” Thor nodded. “Good, now would you want to live here? No? I thought not. What about if I offered to live here with you and share in a home here? You would still be reluctant, yes? A temporary situation is very different to a permanent one; shared or alone, it’s all the same.”

Thor dropped down on the wall beside Loki. The two stared at the roads beyond, as they avoided eye-contact with one another, and Thor pressed his hand against his chest. He pressed hard. It was difficult to breathe, as every beat of his heart echoed out in his ears, and he briefly closed his eyes as he let the darkness consume him. The cologne Loki wore was still the same, as were the little habits and quirks and mannerisms, and yet he looked so different and so much had changed. Thor looked back to him and took his hand. He asked in a weak and quiet voice:

“If I accept your offer to birth the child, but not for you to raise it –?”

“You wouldn’t want that, Thor.”

“No, ideally I would want a family, but –”

“Ideally _neither_ of us should have to sacrifice our wants for the other.” Loki sighed. “I’m often tempted to end this between us, because at least then you’d be free to find a new lover and have a family and be free from the constraints I place on you, but then . . . I’m afraid. I’m afraid of being alone and afraid that this is all I can hope for . . . I’m selfish, Thor.”

Loki pulled back his hand. The shadow of the stable cast a shadow over them. The setting sun brought with it coldness unlike anything experienced during the dark days, and Loki brought his coat tightly about him and zipped it high to his chin. A cloud of warm air formed before him, as he shuffled from foot to foot and walked out from behind the stable. He made towards the tavern. Thor shot forward and snatched at his wrist, only for Loki to yank it away and stumble back a few steps, as he lifted a warning finger in his direction. Thor clenched his fist and hissed.

“That’s a lot to unload on me during a time of grief,” said Thor.

“I feel like we’re living the same day over and over, my love. We keep having this argument, but the ‘compromise’ is just a solution that makes neither of us fully happy . . . I still have to birth a child that I would need to be vaguely around, and who’d steal your attention and time, and I’d resent you for loving another being more than me. I need to feel like I’m – I’m . . .”

“The most important thing in my world.”

“Is that wrong of me?”

“No, Loki, but I worry that I’d resent you in turn. I’d resent you for leaving me with the duties of parenthood alone, as well as what psychological damage that could do to a child, and I fear that I’d resent you more for giving up on my dream of a child in turn. I feel that . . .”

“That we could resent each other regardless.”

Thor swallowed hard. He ran a hand over the back of his neck, while the other rested on his hip, and he stared down at the footsteps left in the snow, as Loki continued towards the tavern. The blue of his skin was steadily darkening in the night, and his hair fell loose and limp with the dying wind no longer proving a nuisance. In the distance, the construction workers walked back with children in arms. The crowds around the tavern and village dispersed. It would soon be cold even for the Jotun, and the hairs on Thor’s arms stood upright, as Loki asked with a shiver:

“If this is potentially the end of us, can it wait until after the funeral?”

Silence fell between them, as Thor swept forward. He cupped Loki’s cheeks with a gentle touch, while he stepped close enough that their chests nearly touched, and his fingers traced the raised ridges that decorated his patterned skin. The rush of adrenaline blurred his vision. Every beat of his heart throbbed in his throat, as bile burned at the back of his tongue, and he swayed a little where he stood, even as his trembling lips struggled to form words. He kissed at Loki’s forehead.

“I love you, Loki,” whispered Thor. “ _I love you_!”

Loki softly stepped away and shook his head.

“Love isn’t always enough, Thor . . .”


	11. Part 3

The nursery was unlike the rest of the palace.

It was filled to the brim with shelves and display cabinets, while the walls were covered with murals that depicted the entirety of Jotun history, and thick furs adorned the stone beds, complete with imported pillows and blankets and plush toys. The lights above were powered by electricity, unlike the oil lamps and wax candles that still littered older homes in Jotunheim. A plate of fresh grapes lay on a play-mat centre of the nursery, where small hands reached for their lunch.

A shelf above the bed was adorned with seashells from Midgard, antique arrowheads from Vanaheim, and vials clear water from Asgard. It could easily have been mistaken for a nursery at home, were it not for the lack of windows and extreme amount of guards stationed outside. Frigga sat down slowly on the bed. It was built low for a small child, which put a strain on her knees, and the wince to her expression was quickly noted, as Byleistr left the nursery and returned with a wooden chair. Frigga thanked him and slid onto its seat.

Magni sat cross-legged. He was positioned between Helblindi’s legs, while Helblindi hummed a familiar nursery rhyme and brushed at his long black locks, and the soft and rhythmic touches seemed to soothe both father and son, even though there were no knots left to untangle. Magni wore rough trousers and a sleeveless top, like a hybrid fashion of Jotunheim and Asgard, and his green eyes stood out brilliantly against his blue skin and Jotun features. Frigga asked:

“Where did he get such green eyes?”

Helblindi blushed. He pressed a kiss to the top of Magni’s head. The hairbrush was placed gently to the side, while he leaned forward and poured a mug of juice for Magni, and – with another lingering kiss and eyes wet with unshed tears – he pulled away with a smile. Helblindi slowly came towards the bed and sat down beside the chair. He was forced to lean back on his hands and crane back his head, as he looked up to her from her higher position, and Byleistr stood opposite them at the main doors, with his hands folded across a muscular chest.

“I wear an illusion, just as Loki and Odin once did,” said Helblindi. “You never had the misfortune to grow up during a war with the skin of your enemy, I assume? Fárbauti taught me well how to use _seidr_ , just as you taught Loki, and I decided – if I had to wear another form – I may as well customise it to my preferences. I always liked blue eyes, so I chose to wear them.”

“Ha, is that the excuse you’re giving this time?” Byleistr asked.

“Oh, don’t bicker in front of company, Brother.” Helblindi waved his hand. “It’s true that I kept the form as it provides a political and personal advantage, and I’ve never made that a secret. If it stops people from asking questions about Magni, I don’t mind changing my eye colour back to green, but I honestly don’t see the point. I was planning on dropping the illusion soon, anyway.”

Helblindi lifted his hand and whispered an incantation. He slowly closed his eyes, before he reopened them with a sigh to reveal a shade of green that was identical to Loki and Magni. A smile fell over Frigga as she thought back to when she first held Loki . . . _‘why did you give him the illusion of green eyes?’, ‘They remind me of Bestla’ . . ._ Magni indeed bore a strong resemblance to the rest of his biological family members. Frigga rested her hands on her lap, as she turned back to Helblindi and locked eyes with him, before she asked:

“Why would you assume your true form now?”

“Well, Jotunheim is doing rather well compared to its past.” Helblindi smiled. “I never wanted to rule, Frigga. I am better suited to the role of advisor or ambassador, where I can make deals behind the scenes and avoid the same level of public scrutiny . . . as a ruler, your successes are your people’s and your people’s failures are yours. It’s a lot of pressure, isn’t it?”

“Ah, not to mention the times when there is no right course of action,” said Frigga. “There were many moments when I had to advise Odin to pick the lesser of two evils, but still he would feel guilt from the inevitable repercussions. He blamed himself for not finding an alternative.”

“Exactly, and people will take your political decisions as a sign of character, too. My father once told me that you cannot be a good ruler _and_ a good man, as the two are mutually exclusive, and the older that I get -? Well, the easier it is to see it for a rather simple truth.”

“I think that is a truth hard for most children to understand. There were many times when I had to wipe away the tears of my sons, for their father was too busy tending to his people to attend their recitals or sparring matches or other moments of pride. A child does not hear ‘the needs of the many outweigh the needs of a few’, but ‘your needs are less than the needs of a stranger’.”

The usual smile dropped from Helblindi. He reached out a hand towards Magni, who looked away from his grapes and juice, and soon the small boy was on his feet, as he ran towards Helblindi and practically jumped into his waiting arms. The laughter was innocent and gentle, bringing with it a sting of nostalgia, as Frigga brought her hand to her heart. Helblindi dipped Magni low, before he smothered him with kisses all over. Magni squealed in delight. A tear pricked at her eye, as Helblindi hugged Magni tight and looked back to her with a broken smile.

“Magni is why I want to give the throne to Byleistr,” whispered Helblindi.

Byleistr turned his head, as he gazed at some random spot. Magni babbled endlessly about his blocks and drawings and schoolwork, before he started to recite the Jotun alphabet, and Helblindi feigned the usual excitement with big gasps and loud exclamations. It took several minutes before he chirped out: ‘you should tell Uncle Byleistr, he’ll be so excited to hear’. Magni jumped down. He ran obediently to Byleistr, who took his hand and guided him over to the play-area, where he distracted Magni long enough for Helblindi’s smile to return. Frigga whispered back:

“That is a very big decision to make.”

“Byleistr was trained to rule as I was trained to rule,” said Helblindi. “I have managed to revolutionise Jotunheim, and I have retrieved for us the Casket of Ancient Winters, and now we have a thriving realm that has the potential for true greatness. The foundations have been laid, but now is time for another to guide the people onward and evolve them ever onward.”

“Our rules state only that the throne must continue down a line,” called Byleistr. “We’ve never had rules that it must only go to a male heir or the eldest heir, and it’s always been done that it’s gone to who’s willing and who’s the best option. Our people won’t mind.”

“I plan to rule for a few more years first, just to take us through this transitional period, but I honestly don’t think it’ll be more than five or ten years at the very most. I want . . . I want to spend time with my son, so that _he_ will be my priority and not my people, but I also want to work as an advisor to Byleistr, so that I can continue to help and shape our realm.”

“I keep saying he should settle down on Asgard,” teased Byleistr. “He would fit in well with an Asgardian appearance, and maybe finally I’d get to feel like the eldest, without someone demanding that I stay after awake all night to debate some new idea or intense project . . .”

“Did it ever occur to you that I made those demands to prepare you for kinghood?”

“Yes, but then I like to live in denial. It’s a happier place.”

Byleistr stuck out his tongue. It brought loud and resounding laughter from Magni. He copied the gesture with a playful sound, until Byleistr responded by a feigned horrified gasp, and – as Magni turned to him and pulled several faces – Byleistr roared like a lion, before raising his arms high like a mock monster. He descended on Magni and play-wrestled him, while Frigga struggled to hide her laughter behind her hand, and Helblindi cried out: ‘be gentle, he’s not old enough to fight’. Byleistr and Magni both paused, looked to each other, and faced Helblindi with tongues stuck out and thumbs on their noses. Helblindi pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I worry sometimes about handing over the throne,” muttered Helblindi. “He’s my brother, and he helped to raise me, and because of that he knows me better than anyone . . . it also means he knows how best to goad me with his feigned indifference and immaturity.”

“Who says it’s feigned, Helblindi? You think too highly of me.”

“I choose to ignore that remark.” Helblindi shook his head and smiled. “In any case, I hope to give Magni a life of balance. I want him to still be a part of the royal family, as such he will retain his princely duties, but I also want him to have the freedom that comes with not being the heir to a throne. I want him to have _choices_ , whether that is here or some other realm.”

Magni and Byleistr continue to play. Helblindi stood and signalled to two of the guards, who stood to attention and adjusted their halberds, and turned with a bow to Frigga, as he offered his hand with palm upturned. Frigga nodded towards him, as she took his hand and rose in turn. The cold climes penetrated through her layers, where they stung at her joints and brought a throbbing ache, and her smile widened when Helblindi extended the crook of his arm. It was accepted with whispered gratitude, as her arm hooked through his arm, and asked softly:

“Would not his father mind him going to some other realm?”

“I would only do what is best for Magni,” said Helblindi.

“That is not what I asked,” continued Frigga.

“Oh? It’s what I answered.”

The smile on his lips was similar to Odin. It was complete with hardness to his eyes, one that left no room for further question or debate, and yet the smile softened his features, enough that a simpler person may have taken it at face value. Helblindi waved to Magni, who waved back with an exaggerated gesture and a high-pitched ‘bye, Papa’. It brought instant laughter from Helblindi, whose eyes lost their hardness and filled with unshed tears, and – as the tension left his muscles – he gently guided Frigga to the nursery doors and whispered in a kind voice:

“Come, this is not a place for political matters.”

The guards saluted, as they left into the main hallway. The nursery was the very last room in the royal quarters, leading them past the bedrooms and suites of other royal members, and guards marched continuously along the corridor, with the constant ‘thud’ of footsteps that was exactly like Loki’s complaints. Helblindi guided her through the palace, until they reached the ground floor, and led the way into a side room that was filled with Asgardian furniture and furs.

It created the illusion of a comfortable sitting room, with its large windows overlooking the gardens at the front of the palace and the wrought-iron fence, and more guards marched in an irregular pattern through the grounds, with a seemingly irregular timing that would make memorisation of their route impossible. Frigga let go of extended arm, as she took a seat on the soft cushions of the bay window. Helblindi sat at her side, although he was forced to rise to remove a lost toy from the cushion beneath him, as he said in a calm voice:

“Thank you for allowing us to pay our respects.”

He sat back down, while he held the toy knight on his lap. The wood was discoloured by time, with its joints creaking and groaning on each twist of its limbs, and its white slivers denoted what was either an Asgardian depiction or an Asgardian toy. A gust of wind brought snow against the windowpane, which darkened the room and cast shadows about them. Helblindi took the toy back to a far shelf. The portrait above was one of Bestla and Fárbauti, with Fárbauti in particular almost identical to Loki in his Asgardian form. Frigga looked away with a frown.

“Odin would have wanted you there,” said Frigga.

“We both know that’s not true, but it’s nice of you to say.” Helblindi smiled.

“Let us not beat around the bush, then. You asked for an escort to Asgard for a reason, and I imagine it was so that you could discuss what Odin’s passing means for Jotunheim. I would put your mind at rest by saying the terms of the peace treaty still stand; all paperwork was ironclad and unbreakable, with all eventualities and loopholes covered. You made sure of that.”

“If I’m to be truthful, I didn’t ask you here for political reasons. The fact remains that Jotunheim is thriving, and modern politics and intergalactic relations would make an act of war impossible, even if it was somehow in our best interests. We have excellent trade deals with other realms, and we have the Casket of Ancient Winters to power our alternative to the Bifrost, once we’ve completed construction. We’ve dispersed our population and improved our infrastructure.

“You’ll notice that we have electricity, created with the power of our wind, and we can use this as a back-up power in case of emergencies. We have transport. We have an empty orphanage and an increasing population, thanks to incentives for our people to have children, and our educational system and social care system help them to make child-rearing possible. There is nothing more that I’d ask of Asgard aside from a continued promise to be left alone.”

“This is something that could have been said in Asgard,” said Frigga.

“Perhaps,” chirped Helblindi, “but then how could I show off our accomplishments firsthand?”

“If your intent was to boast about what you have achieved, you would need more than a day. I see that the roads run across the entire realm, and your maps reveal towns and cities that reach from one side of the globe to the other. In a few decades, you will bring Jotunheim back to its former glory. In a few centuries, it may be even greater than Asgard itself.”

Helblindi stood before a fireplace. It was more decorative than functional, with no means to carry the smoke out of the room, and the mantelpiece over was filled with photographs and portraits, some of which bore a strong resemblance to Odin. A cold blow struck at Frigga’s heart, as she drew in a staggered breath and pressed a hand to her chest. Frigga turned her head. He came back slowly towards the window, where he resumed his seat and heaved a sigh. Helblindi pushed back a lock of black hair behind his ear, as he whispered:

“Loki is a lot like Odin, isn’t he?”

He stared out through the window, where Loki and Thor walked side-by-side. There was a distance between them, while neither met the gaze of the other, and the snow caught at Loki’s black locks and furs, so that each flake stood out against the darkness. They stopped not far from the main doors. Thor reached towards Loki, only for Loki to pull away with a shake of his head, and – with head down low – he strode back inside the palace, where Thor followed. The smile faded from Frigga, as her hand pressed to the glass and slid slowly away, as she asked:

“Why do you ask that, Helblindi?”

“They were both second-born children,” said Helblindi. “They were both half-Jotun, and they were both taught to hate themselves . . . when they possessed the throne, it was one gifted to them by a parent, and they both committed great acts of violence, albeit ones that were regretted.”

“You list only their negative traits.”

“Is being half-Jotun a ‘negative trait’? I never knew.”

“You know what I mean. Do not twist my words.” Frigga frowned. “If you seek to get me at a disadvantage, by moving this conversation into one about the nature of the Jotun, then I am afraid to say that I will not rise to the bait and allow myself to be manipulated. I have done you a great courtesy coming here in my time of grief, now do me one in turn and be honest, Helblindi.”

“Hmm, it’s a shame that Loki failed to inherit your self-awareness. He allows himself to be too easily manipulated. I’ve always been grateful that he never fell into the abyss that day; if another had found him before we were able to help him, he may have been completely lost. In any case, my point is that Loki and Odin are alike in many ways, and I wonder – like myself and Fárbauti – whether the similarities led to contention. We were always too different where it counted, but –”

“Too similar where it should not,” finished Frigga. “Funnily, it was always Thor and Odin that were prone to violent outbursts and ground-shaking arguments. I feel that both my sons inherited a great deal from both parents, but Loki took from me enough to learn to pick his battles. He thankfully listened to Odin whereas Thor would rebel against him.”

“And will he grow to be like Odin?”

“Do you mean whether he will seek for peace or desire to dominate?”

Frigga cast her gaze about the room. The items were dated and well-preserved, with a few books on a far coffee-table that looked new despite being classics, and a few plates lay on the floor covered with dust, alongside stray toys and crumbling parchment. Helblindi kept his gaze through the windows, where his warm breath condensed on the glass. Frigga smoothed at her skirts, while an argument took place in the hall beyond, and the voices struggled to remain low, until they finally disappeared from earshot. A low scoff fell from Helblindi.

“Loki has only ever wanted a place to call his ‘home’,” said Frigga. “There was a time when this translated as a place to rule as king, but I think now he has come to realise that what he wants is something more . . . abstract. He desires his family and his freedom. I think that the death of his father has made this even clearer to him, as he fears losing those that he so loves.”

“He wishes to travel the realms, but have somewhere to return when done.” Helblindi paused and smiled. “Well, he has that with Jotunheim and Asgard in equal measure, right? I always saw him as one to whom freedom was a priority, whereas for me family was the priority. You see, I’d be happy stuck in the same palace for a lifetime, so long as I had my son and nephews around to devote my time and love and efforts. Loki would be miserable, though.”

“He would,” conceded Frigga.

“So may I ask about this thing with Thor? I’m concerned, Frigga. I’m concerned that Loki will want to give Thor an heir, all out of a misguided belief that if Thor is happy then he shall be happy, because all they need is to be together . . . it would be all too easy for him to look at his child and resent them, because they’re the reason why his ambitions are stifled. It’ll be even worse for him to see his lover so happy while _he_ suffers on a daily basis . . .

“I’m also worried what this would mean for Jotunheim. I half-expect that this will be the death of the relationship, as Loki has been unhappy for a while now, but maybe it’s for the best. If we’re lucky, neither realm will need to deal with the fallout of having two princes having broken the law. It would be ideal, but . . . there’s still the chance he won’t break up with Thor.”

“Do you really feel it a danger for them to remain together?”

“You know as well as I that remaining together only delays the inevitable,” said Helblindi. “If Loki relapses, what would that mean for us? Asgard stole from us our main energy source, and then it stole from us our youngest prince . . . what have we left to give? I’ve been forced to rethink my priorities since becoming a parent. I want reassurances that Loki will do what’s right, because we both know he reacts badly to feeling trapped and that’s how he’d feel with a child.”

Helblindi stood. He walked towards one of the far shelves, where he ran his finger through the dust of one framed photograph, and – with a wince – Frigga recognised a family of five, with the youngest just a babe in the arms of Fárbauti. Helblindi sighed. He flipped the frame down, until the family picture was hidden from sight, and whispered: ‘ _she always longed for Asgard, and always resented Bestla’._ The roll to his shoulders was followed by a straightening of his back, as he turned to Frigga with a familiar smile and leaned back against the wall.

“I know you must be more concerned about the opposite,” said Helblindi. “If Loki decides to end this relationship and later wishes for a child -? Well, I fear that too, but I’m still king and I must put the needs of the people before the needs of one person. If Loki regrets having lost Thor, he can find a new partner and start a new family, but if he were to stay with Thor -?”

“Loki has come far, Helblindi. I do not envision him breaking in either situation.”

“Don’t you? I can see him now as king, with Thor as his consort, and a child or two running about his feet, all the while longing . . . _yearning_ . . . to explore the realms, as he dreams of a life without constraints and rules and responsibilities. He would let the Nine Realms burn, all so he could recline . . . being fed grapes by servants singing his praises, no doubt . . . he would lose Thor and he would lose his throne. That behaviour would not be tolerated forever.”

“At which point, he would either run away or lash out.” Frigga sighed. “You do not fear him running away, as you see it as inevitability, but you fear him trying to make others suffer as he would suffer. You fear he would resent the choice having been taken from him, as the people demand he fulfil his duties to them or abdicate. The throne would be wrested from him.”

“He’s grown a lot, but he still tries to hurt others when he’s hurt. He sees it as a way of regaining control over a situation, which is his personal coping mechanism, but what if he lashes out against Thor or Jotunheim . . . what if Magni suffers for such violence?”

Helblindi tilted back his head. He cast his eye over the ceiling above, and Frigga followed his gaze to see a mural painted much like the one in Asgard, except it was clearly an imitation of the one before the repainting after the war with Jotunheim. The reds and blacks depicted a bloody battle, a far cry from the scenes of peaceful reconciliation. Frigga stood. Every step brought her closer to the centre of the room, where she looked up at the brutal past that could not be hidden, and closed her eyes in thought of all that Helblindi had been taught and experienced.

“I am sure Loki means to do what is right,” said Frigga.

“So did Bestla,” sighed Helblindi. “It ended up with a child of Asgard brought to Jotunheim, which caused such resentment with its birth father that _millennia_ of war occurred. I don’t want Loki to force himself into a union with one wrong for him, like Bestla and Bor . . .”

He walked back towards the doors, but paused on the path towards them. He bent low to take a book from a small table, before blowing the dust from its surface, and – after wiping it down with the side of his hand – presented it to Frigga. It was a history of the entwined family trees between Jotunheim and Asgard, but a flick through the contents revealed a written note from Bestla on the front page and the last few pages ripped out with an uneven hand. Helblindi cracked open the door. He half-stepped into the hall, before he whispered back:

“Let’s just hope history doesn’t repeat . . .”


	12. Part 3

_The flames broke through the darkness._

_It was the sole focus of the black waters, where its fiery glow illuminated the horizon. The stars above paled in comparison to the light from the boat, as Odin sailed away to Valhalla, and the crowds on the bridge remained silent, while the crackling timbers echoed around them. Thor swallowed back a lump in his throat. The bile burned at the back of his tongue, while the tears distorted the sight of the funeral pyre as it floated into the distance. He bit into his tongue._

_The taste of iron flooded his mouth. He drew in deep and fast breaths, as a whispered prayer fell from his lips, and the cold night air brought goose-bumps to his skin. A hand rested on his upper arm. Thor turned his head, where Loki could stood blurred and still in his peripheral vision. He bore an impassive expression, free from tears, but his skin was pale and his hand trembled, enough that his grief betrayed him despite his attempts at stoicism. Thor reached for his hand and squeezed. He let his gaze move about the crowd, until he saw a familiar face. He asked:_

_‘Is that Magni I see?’_

_Loki followed his eyes into the distance, where Helblindi stood on the outskirts. The Asgardian attire suited him well, as it emphasised his best features, and Magni stood between him and Byleistr, where he held onto a hand from each man. He bore straight black hair, which was braided down his back like his father, and his facial features were softer than the Jotun side, only emphasised by the outfit he wore that was both Jotun and Asgardian in style. Thor smiled, as he squeezed at Loki’s hand. Loki simply sighed and squeezed back._

_‘That’s Helblindi’s son, yes,’ said Loki._

_‘He reminds me a little of Father,’ whispered Thor. ‘If it weren’t for his blue skin and black hair, you wouldn’t mistake the family connection . . . he’s definitely Odin’s nephew. I – I wish Father could have met him . . . he always loved children, and I think he always missed Fárbauti . . .’_

_‘There is a special kind of evil that would separate siblings.’_

_‘True, but a worse one that would separate a father from his child.’_

_Loki winced. He pulled away his hand, before he folded his arms across his chest. The fires of the pyre were now gone from sight, while the heavy scent of smoke and flesh permeated the air around them, and finally . . . Odin was gone. A heavy blow struck at Thor’s chest, as he bent forward and struggled to fill his lungs. Loki spun around. He kept his back to the waters, while the crowds slowly dispersed, and Frigga wept as Sif guided her back to the palace. Loki sniffed and touched at his eyes, as tears threatened to spill down his cheeks, as he forced out:_

_‘Let’s not bring down the mood any further, Thor.’_

_Thor continued to stare after their father. At the far end of the bridge, Helblindi whisked Magni up into his arms and marched by them without a word . . . not even the usual condolences that had begun to feel hollow from the masses . . . Byleistr followed a few steps behind. The crowds were soon gone. It was just the two of them, with the whole cosmos laid bare before them, and yet each one was alone in their grief. A tear ran down Thor’s cheek._

_‘I’m going to miss him, Loki,’ choked Thor._

_‘We all will, Brother. We all will.’_

* * *

The fireplace roared with a snowy cyclone. It was surrounded by magical barrier in a perfect circle, which prevented the snow from escaping or stray hands from falling inside, and yet it provided a perfect view of the swirling snowflakes within, as they let loose a cold breeze. The balcony doors were thrown wide, allowing in a cold draught, and the furs about the sofas were neatly piled at the far corner of the room. Magni sat cross-legged on the floor.

Byleistr sat behind him with parted legs, so that Magni sat protected between them. Loki knelt opposite, with a small board between them, and the pieces on top were shaped like flat stones, painted blue on one side and white on the other. Magni would flip a piece, only for Loki to flip another piece. There was seemingly no pattern or logic to the movements, but they moved with such speed that clearly there was urgency and forethought to the board game, and soon all the pieces were turned into a sea of blue. Loki cried out ‘ha’, as Magni pouted.

A small laugh escaped Thor.

All three sets of eyes turned to him, as he waved at them with a lazy hand. Byleistr muttered an apology, as he scooped Magni into his arms, and – before Thor could retort – Byleistr darted past him into the hallway, before making a quick speed with Magni to their guest suite. Thor rolled his eyes, as he wandered back into the lounge. He threw himself down onto a sofa, while Loki fussed about putting away the board game, although the smirk on his lips never once faded, as if his victory were not against a small child. The white light from the snow danced about the room.

“Magni seems to love you,” said Thor.

Loki smiled. It pulled at the corner of his eyes. He stood and smoothed down his leather attire, before running his fingers through his black hair, and he walked slowly towards the sofa opposite Thor, as opposed to his usual place at his side. There was a time when Loki would whisper into his ear, so close that his warm breath sent shivers down his spine, but now there was only a space between them that forced Thor to listen more sharply to his every word. Loki placed one leg over his knee, while he reclined back and rested his arms on the back of the sofa. 

“I hope to be a good uncle to him,” replied Loki. “I’ll admit I kept my distance from him, which was made easier by Helblindi’s overprotective nature, but now that Father is gone . . . I see that our time with family is limited. I’ve been getting to know Steinn and Fannar, too.”

“I wish I could see more of them, but they live so remote from Útgarðar.”

“If you can spare a few weeks, I’d recommend an extended visit.” Loki smiled. “The countryside in Jotunheim must be seen to be believed, and it lacks the mountains obstructing the views of the landscape. I went with Steinn and Byleistr to a frozen lake; Steinn taught me how to fish, but I hardly have the patience for a second attempt. We made some good memories.”

“It reminds me of the memories we made with father. I would give anything to go back and camp with him before the fireplace, where we ate our kill and listened to stories of our ancestors, and I can see why you would want to relive that with the next generation . . .”

“Thor, I hope you know this doesn’t change how I feel about children.”

“I know,” sighed Thor. “A nephew is very different to a son.”

He stared into the cyclone. It was so similar to the winds of Jotunheim, with the cold enough to make every breath of Loki’s visible, and yet the beautiful lights and clear skies of Asgard were visible beyond the windows and balconies. A portrait of Odin adorned the walls beyond, where Frigga sat on an elegantly carved chair, and Thor and Loki stood on either side of them, adorned in formal attire. It was reminiscent of portraits of Byleistr, as he stood alongside Agnar, Steinn, and Fannar. A faint smile faded from his lips, as he whispered:

“Do they not make you reconsider at all?”

“Do you change your mind around children?” Loki asked. “Do the sleepless nights not put you off raising a child? Do you not start to loathe the repeated nursery rhymes, the inane chatter, and the excitement over trivial matters? No? You see all the bad, but for you the good outweighs the bad and you still want what you want regardless. The same is with me.”

“You love the good, but it does not outweigh the bad . . .”

“If you were still willing to be disowned, I would still be willing to provide an heir. I just wouldn’t be willing to be a _parent_ to that heir . . . I’m not going to suddenly gain paternal urges just because I pushed a child from my uterus, Thor. It doesn’t work like that.”

Loki stood. He marched towards the fireplace, where his hands rested on its raised edges. The white light from the snow caught at his blue complexion; it lightened his skin, made his red eyes glitter, and emphasised the ridges that patterned his face. Thor slid down onto the floor. He took the boxed board game in his hands, before he collected other toys and books that lay scattered about . . . a book of fairy tales, a stuffed bilgesnipe, and a selection of colouring pencils . . . Thor smiled. He carried them over to the toy-box, before he glanced back over his shoulder to Loki.

“I always assumed paternal urges an instinctive one,” said Thor.

“That belief is what contributes to cases of post-partum depression.” Loki shook his head. “I still volunteer as a healer at the hospital, but most cases I see are ‘simple’ ones. It means that I usually aid in births or fix broken bones or deal with panic attacks. Do you know the worst thing that I see, though? It’s parents who blame themselves for their own nature.

“They give birth and the hormones are naturally wild. They feel sadness and anger and all sorts of emotions, and some _don’t_ feel a natural and instant love for their child; sometimes it’s because the hormones are so imbalanced, which hinders their day-to-day perceptions and emotions, but sometimes they just don’t _have_ that paternal nature. Still, they’re told day after day after day how wonderful a baby will make their life, and how different their own child will be for them . . .

“They get told that holding their baby will make them forget the pain of birth. They get told that the bleeding and leaking and restlessness will be worth the sacrifice. They blame themselves when they don’t feel this instant and automatic bond, as they don’t realise such a thing is just a romantic myth, and then they feel guilty, which only adds to their depression.”

“I imagine that must make matters worse,” mumbled Thor.

“It makes it _infinitely_ worse,” muttered Loki. “I have to teach them that love must be learned, and – while some people do experience ‘love on first sight’ – most people have to get to know a person before they feel attachment to them. Did they love their spouse instantly? Did they like their friends right away? It’s the same for children. It’s not unnatural in the least.”

Thor frowned. He looked down at the toy-box, taken from the old nursery from their youth, and on its surface were the carved graffiti of children learning their names: ‘Thor’ and ‘Loki’. He knelt down and ran his hand over the etchings of past battles, while an old toy soldier poked its head from the corner with an arm broken off, and a broken laugh fell from his lips. The son he wanted was far from conceived, still just an idea within his mind, but the love was unconditional and swelled within his chest, and he held tight to that toy soldier, as his eyes watered.

He rolled it in his hands, as he pictured the face of the boy or girl that would play with their old toys, and clothes made for little bodies, as they were dressed to look as adorable as possible. There would be family meals shared at a dining table. There would be family portraits lining every surface. Thor sighed and put the soldier back, as he stood tall and turned to face Loki. He bit into his lower lip and scratched at the back of his neck, as he muttered out:

“Do you think you could come to love a child?”

“I think it possible,” confessed Loki. “I grew to love Magni, Steinn, and Fannar. The fact remains though that I _wanted_ to grow to love them, as I know I can commit to a relationship with them, but I don’t want to love a child of my own . . . I would only resent them.”

“So it’s a choice to be childless? You are making this choice.”

“It goes both ways. You’re _choosing_ to have a child.”

Thor ran his hands over his face. He took in a shuddered breath, before he dragged his feet towards the fireplace and dropped his forearms onto its edges. He pressed his forehead to the ice-cold barrier. He swallowed hard. The chilled air seeped through his armour and penetrated his bare skin, while his callused fingers toyed with the frayed edges of his red cape, and Loki – with a sigh – slowly slid around the fireplace to stand beside him. A soft hand came to his shoulder and squeezed, until Thor reached for it and entwined their fingers together.

“I’m sorry, Loki,” choked Thor.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I just assumed everyone wanted a child. I thought a bond with a child was instant. It’s only recently that I’ve started to see things through your eyes, and I realise if it was unfair for me to sacrifice my dream of a child then it was unfair to expect you to raise one. I just . . . I just thought that if one of us changed our mind, maybe we could stay together . . .”

“I’ve thought about it, but I also know I can’t keep having this discussion. We go back and forth, around and around, but we always end up at the same place. I love you Thor, but I love myself more, and I don’t want to have to sacrifice my needs for your wants.”

“It took you a while to find that self-awareness,” teased Thor.

“It takes time to create perfection,” said Loki.

Loki looked to him and he looked back. The half-smile hid a mischievous nature, but his old confidence seeped through and made his eyes shine in the white light. It was like the Loki of childhood, complete with him pulling away his hand to flick at Thor’s forehead, and – as Thor shouted out a ‘hey’ – Loki was already several steps back to avoid a retaliatory blow. Thor glared at him, but it was a short-lived expression. He burst into laughter. Loki returned slowly, while Thor threw an arm around him and pulled him into a rough hug, before asking:

“So what happens to us now, Loki?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean . . . do we just go back to being brothers?” Thor held at his shoulder. “I know what you look like naked, Loki. I know the noises you make when aroused, and the things you do when you come . . . these are things no brothers should know about one another. How am I supposed to look at you at a family event and forget all the romance and physicality between us?”

“A lot of people remain friends with their exes,” muttered Loki.

“Yes, but most of them wouldn’t have to be best man at their wedding. I’ve never known a man to be godfather or uncle to his ex’s children. I’ve never known them to continue sharing a house or attend the same family events or otherwise remain in each other’s lives. It feels like nothing will change between us, except that we won’t be having intercourse. That will make things so much harder; it’ll be all too easy to just fall into bed together after a drunken night . . .”

“We have self-control. Well, _I_ have self-control.”

“Okay, so just ignore how messy this could become.” Thor rolled his eyes. “What happens when one of us moves forward? Do you think you could stand beside me at the altar, but _not_ resent my bride or groom for having what you can never have? Do you think I wouldn’t look to your future partner and not _desperately_ wish that could be me? What if we can’t be together at all?”

Thor stepped away from Loki, as his hand slid slowly away. He walked towards the balcony, where the warm air provided a sharp shock from the cold air, and he threw himself against the railing, where he gazed down at the realm before them. In a far garden, construction took place on a memorial to Odin. In the streets, people milled about in search of entertainment. The world continued at its usual pace, even with all the loss and grief, and yet Thor remained fixed in place, as he buried his face into his hands and tried to block out the sights.

A slow series of footsteps echoed about the lounge. Thor kept his eyes closed, even as Loki came to stand beside him, and a warm hand reached for his hand, where it rested over his and a soft thumb rubbed circles on his wrist. He finally looked to Loki. The usual smile was long gone, replaced only with an impassive face and half-lidded eyes. It was difficult to read him, even as he gazed out over Asgard, and Thor looked him over with a slow examination.

“What if being around each other is too painful?” Thor asked in a low voice. “I don’t want to avoid you, lest I worry about resenting you or regretting my choice. I know that we have to break up, but I don’t want to lose my brother in the process, Loki. I can’t lose _you_.”

“Helblindi . . . he’s . . . he’s trying to set me up with someone.”

“Oh?” Thor blinked. “ _Oh_. Well, I suppose you are single . . .”

“It’s a Jotun man named Sigyn. He was married before, but the relationship broke apart when he wanted to travel the Nine Realms and his spouse wanted another child. I’ve met him. I don’t know if it could evolve into a romance, and I’ve never been with any other man, so I wouldn’t be ready any time soon . . . it would feel too much like cheating. In the future, though -?”

“He has children?”

“He has two, but the youngest is fifty-two and the oldest two-hundred.”

Thor chewed and pressed his lips. He fumbled over half-formed words, as he pulled away his hand from Loki, and his gaze went back over the thousands of lights that lined the landscape. A cold wind blew across the palaces, where it caught at his hair and blew it about his face. The leather entwined with his plait chilled his skin, as it brushed against his neck. He pushed it back behind his ear, before he turned to face Loki directly, and waved a hand lazily in the air, as his nostrils flared and eyes narrowed. He swallowed hard, before he choked out:

“You wouldn’t need to be a father to them, then.”

“No,” said Loki. “He also doesn’t expect me to bear him any more children.”

“So you go off with Sigyn and live a life on Jotunheim?” Thor sighed. “I find someone that wants children, as well as will be suitable to rule, and I’ll live life exactly how Father envisioned for me here on Asgard? I suppose we could go back to being just brothers, but we made each other’s lives hell as children . . . you would always incessantly prank me.”

“ _I_ pranked _you_? You once put Mjölnir on my commode!”

“Only because you cut off my hair while I slept!”

“Yes, because you took me hunting and abandoned me while I slept!”

“Oh, as if you hadn’t swapped my Vanaheim vocabulary for curse words!”

Loki ran his index finger over his upper lip. It was an innocuous gesture, much like a scratch or a nervous tic, but behind the hand was an obvious smile. The smirk was matched only by the jerks of his shoulders, as well as a flush of colour to his cheeks, and Thor raised his finger in a stern warning, when hisses of fast breath followed. He smiled in turn and spat out: ‘stop it! I’m still angry at you’. Loki broke out into warm laughter, as his hand moved to his stomach. It was contagious. Thor laughed alongside him and pushed him playfully away by his arm.

“I do miss the rivalry,” laughed Loki.

“I – I suppose there is something to be said about brotherhood.” Thor smiled. “I’m sorry I put such pressure on you, Loki. It’s easy to say logically that we should have broken up sooner, but emotionally is a whole other issue . . . I think it’s unfair for either of us to sacrifice. We can still be happy, can’t we? We can still love one another, even if it’s not like it was before?”

“I know we can be happy, so long as we have each other in some form. I only ever wanted a family, Thor, but in the classic sense of people I could love unconditionally and feel loved in return, and finally I feel like I have a place I belong . . . I can be happy, if you can?”

“I’ll need time to mope and complain and mourn, but . . .”

“But what?”

“There is one thing that might help ease this break-up.”

Thor waggled his eyebrows. Loki laughed again. He sauntered closer to Loki, while he cast his eyes back to the door to check no one was in sight, and placed both rough hands just above those prominent hips, where cool fingers slid slightly under his tunic-styled top. The skin was still warm, as if there were no Jotun blood in the slightest. Thor yanked him close. It brought a loud gasp from Loki, who threw up his hands to brace against a broad chest. He licked at his lips and slid his fingers upward, until they found a lock of blond hair and twirled it with a smirk.

“Oh? How can I help you, Thor?”

“How about we spend one last night together?”

Loki uttered a sound between a hum and a purr. He stroked at the stubble-covered cheek, while his plump lips pressed chaste and lingering kisses along his column of neck, and – as his member hardened beneath his trousers – Thor moaned and slid his hands lower. They stopped once they reached round and perfectly formed buttocks. He squeezed and massaged the flesh. A low laugh fell from Loki, who pressed their lips together in anticipation of a kiss. Thor darted out his tongue. Loki pulled back. The smirk was failed to reach Loki’s narrowed eyes.

A hand slapped at his cheek, as Loki scoffed and spat out his tongue. He stepped back and wrenched away those still clinging hands, before he turned his back on Thor and walked away, and – as Thor followed – he looked back over his shoulder. The smile was sincere this time, even as he rolled his eyes and huffed. Loki made his way across the lounge, where he stopped only once he reached the main doors, and he pressed down the handles, as he looked back again.

“You really will try anything,” teased Loki.

“It was worth a shot,” laughed Thor.

“I just hope whomever comes after me can keep up with your appetite.”

Loki slipped out into the hallway. The door was left ajar, but not as an invitation to follow. It brought a sliver of light inside, casting glow about one side of Thor’s body, and he threw himself against the doorframe, as he watched Loki disappear into his suite. He frowned to realise he would need to knock in future . . . there were new boundaries, new limitations, new expectations . . .

Thor closed the door with a soft click, as he heaved a final sigh.


	13. Part 3

The garden was teeming with life.

A few butterflies darted about the flowerbeds, while a low breeze rustled the trees overhead. It sent down a rain of colourful leaves, like a rain of nature, and Magni danced below with his tiny hands reaching upwards to the branches. He would try to catch the falling leaves, while running about the grass with bare feet and calling over to Helblindi. The smile was bright and wide. It brought a sparkle to his green eyes, as he babbled about the birdsongs and tried to match them. 

Helblindi sat beside Frigga on a wrought-iron bench. It was intricately painted in whites and pinks and greens, with the centre of the back-piece between them depicting a bouquet of flowers, and Helblindi wore his Asgardian form in a sight so rare that Thor did a quick double-take. He wore his long black plait over his shoulder, while his tunic-suit was a perfect mixture of Asgardian and Jotun attire, and – even as he spoke to Frigga – his gaze never once left Magni. A sunbeam caught at his green eyes, enough that he threw up a hand to shield them from the sun.

Thor crept beside Byleistr, who leaned against the trunk of a tree. He kept his arms crossed against his chest, while sheen of sweat marked his blue skin, and his red eyes watched every movement made by Magni. Thor chuckled. It brought a low sigh from Byleistr, who turned and looked him over slowly from feet to head. Frigga and Helblindi ceased their conversation. The smile fell from Thor, who scratched at his neck, and shrugged in an attempt to break the tension.

“Magni is an adorable child,” said Thor.

“Yes, but he’s late for his studies. Excuse me.”

Byleistr failed to bow or nod toward Thor. He simply slowly strode toward Magni, who ran towards him with open arms and great bouts of laughter, and soon Magni jumped into his hold, while babbling aimlessly about all the wonders of Asgard. Byleistr feigned interest, as he carried Magni out of the gardens without even a second glance toward Thor. The sun shone bright onto the falling leaves, which now collected against the grass, and Thor flared his nostrils with a hiss that echoed out about the gardens. He turned to face the bench and threw up his hands.

“I’m starting to get a complex,” spat Thor.

He strode towards Helblindi and Frigga, where he dragged a chair across the gravel. The chair was dropped unceremoniously opposite them, with a small garden-table between them, and a large golden charger took up a great deal of the tabletop, where a platter of Jotun cuisine adorned its surface. It was mostly jerked meats and pickled vegetables, items that could be kept and preserved long-term in colder climates. Thor picked a piece of what appeared to be fruit-cake, using the small slice to distract himself, even as Helblindi said with a sigh:

“It’s hardly personal, Thor.”

“Really? It feels personal.”

“Look, it’s a complicated matter.” Helblindi winced. “If I’m to be honest, there’s a reason why Magni only has one parent listed on his family tree and birth certificate, and . . . it’s left me somewhat overprotective of him, okay? I don’t want to see Magni hurt. I need to make sure that I can trust the people that interact with him, and at the moment -? You’re not one of them.”

“Ah, so it _is_ personal. I understand.”

“Thor, it took me a _year_ to allow Loki access to Magni. I think he was toddling before I’d let Steinn and Fannar play with him. Frigga and Agnar are only allowed near him when supervised, and he’s never once been outside our palace or this palace, save for the funeral. I’m sure you’re a wonderful man, but I can’t take any chances where Magni is concerned. Please, leave it alone.”

“I don’t mean to reopen old wounds,” muttered Thor. “I know you don’t like to discuss matters regarding Magni, and I can make an educated guess on the specifics . . . I’m not that much a fool, no matter what my brother claims, but you must understand how much it hurts.”

“I understand you adore children, but Magni is not a toy to entertain you.”

“Do you not understand how insulting that is?”

The muscles in Thor’s hand tensed. The slice of fruit-cake crumbled in his fist, until – with a hiss – he opened his fingers and let the crumbs tumble onto the gravel below. It left brown and gold debris across the pale stones, where a stray bee buzzed around before flying away, and Thor stamped the crumbs underfoot, until they were out of sight. He clasped his hands between his legs, as he leaned forward and flared his nostrils with a heavy exhale. Frigga whispered some calming words, while Helblindi remained silent, and Thor choked out in a low voice:

“You think I wish to use my cousin as a surrogate son?”

“I think that all people fuss and fawn over children,” said Helblindi. “I know too well that urge to spoil your nephews, to donate to orphanages, and to spend time with children in the community, as you long for a family that you think is impossible. I’m not saying you’d do it intentionally, or fail to know boundaries, but you must understand my anxiety and concerns.

“I’m terrified that Magni’s father will seek to lay claim to him, as I _can’t_ lose my son, and I would honestly have rather never had him than to lose him at this point. I say that I allow people around my son that I can ‘trust’, but this trust is more than just about his physical and mental health, Thor. It’s about knowing that the people who make a bond with him won’t abandon him, and it’s about knowing that the people who I let into his life won’t try to usurp my role as father.

“I spoiled Fannar and Steinn so much, but I always knew my place. I never once crossed lines or tried to spend all my time with them or claimed to know better than their parents, and when Byleistr or Agnar made what I thought were ‘bad’ decisions -? I grin and bore it. I don’t trust you not to overstep, which is the last thing I need when I already feel so vulnerable.”

“It’s not like you to admit to vulnerability,” said Thor.

“I would usually keep my weakness to myself, but it’s an open secret at this point.” Helblindi smiled. “Thor, I may eventually let you closer to Magni, but in the meantime . . . it’s not personal, and you’ll notice that I’ve not allowed Magni in public or semi-public areas of the palace. I’ve also kept your friends and advisors away from him, too. I know it’s irrational, but . . .”

“You need time,” finished Thor.

Helblindi sighed. He leaned back with a smile, as he crossed his legs at the knee. The clasped hands fell about his lap, while he tilted his head with a glint to his eyes, and hid expression no longer bore any of the previous vulnerability, but an uncanny confidence. Thor narrowed his gaze. He looked Helblindi over slowly from head to toe, while Frigga poured some wine and made some unimportant small talk, and a strange silence fell between them, broken only by the chirping of birds and the clatter of armour as the guards made their rounds.

“It’s unlike you to expose so much of yourself.” Thor sighed. “How much of that is true? I feel like you’re playing me like you play everyone in your circle, because you know that it’s my job to protect my people and to help those in need. If you make yourself a victim, I’ll keep my distance in order to help you by respecting your limitations and boundaries.”

“Oh? I never realised you thought me so manipulative.”

“Ah, that old trick is one of Loki’s. You are deflecting . . . you are trying to make me feel guilty, so that I’ll change topics and you can regain control of the conversation. It must be a family trait, as our father was an expert at such amateurish attempts of manipulation.”

A loud burst of laughter exploded from Helblindi. He continued until his eyes were wet with tears, before he apologised and brought a hand before his mouth, and – hiding the last chuckles as they died down – Helblindi muttered an apology and waved to Thor. It was a gesture of acknowledgement. He leaned forward and took a glass of wine from the table, before he leaned back and sipped with a few last laughs. A mock toast to Thor nearly brought Thor to his feet, but Frigga signalled for him to remain seated. He clenched his teeth. He looked away.

“I knew I liked you for a reason,” said Helblindi.

“Well, so how much is true?”

“All of it and none of it, Thor. It’s complicated.”

Thor smiled despite himself, as he turned to see Helblindi wink. Frigga fussed about the table, as she took a small plate and put together his favourite foods, and – for a moment – he was reminded of his childhood, when Loki would carry a plate during parties made by their mother. He took it from her without complaint. Thor picked at his plate, while a strong breeze brought leaves in their direction. They danced about his feet, as he kicked them away and thought back to Magni, and the smile died on his lips, as he put away his plate. Frigga whispered:

“Are you still craving a family?”

“I’ve always dreamt of having a family unit.” Thor shrugged and shook his head. “I feel I have so much love to give to the world, and a child is someone that you can direct that love and give them all the attention and kindness and resources that they deserve. They have unlimited potential, but you have this great honour to see them grow _into_ that potential. A child is a gift from the gods, and I know I could repay them a thousand times over.”

“Loki offered you such a gift, did he not?”

“He did, but it’s hardly the same. I always dreamt of someone to help raise that child, so that we could double all the joy and halve all the woes, and that way there would always be someone to offer advice, give their support, and stand alongside me. I could not imagine a child with only one parent . . . I want my child to have what I had, with a traditional family unit.”

“Do you think a child with one parent is at a disadvantage?”

“Not at all,” said Thor. “I just think that some people wish for a child, and others wish for a family . . . I’m one of the latter. I’m sure that Helblindi will be a magnificent parent, and clearly Magni wants for nothing and has all the love he could need, but I feel that _I_ would be missing something by parenting a child alone. I want the experience of both a partner and child, with the two having the same bond that I would share with them in turn. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Thor stood, while he ran his hands over his face. He paced a little about the garden, where in the distance the balconies of the royal quarters were visible, and on the grand balcony – that once belonged to his father – there was only emptiness . . . Thor sighed. A frown marred his features, as he turned back to the bench and waved a hand in their direction. The breeze caught at stray locks of Frigga’s hair, where gold and grey mixed together in a beautiful shade, and the shadows it cast deepened the lines about her face, aging her beyond her years. Thor whispered:

“How did you _both_ know about Loki?”

He pointed a finger to Helblindi, while casting an eye to Frigga. The wind picked up speed, as servants darted towards them to clear the table, and neither spoke a word in their presence, while they fussed and bowed and exited backwards with low backs. Frigga stood and walked to his side, where she pressed a soft hand to his upper arm. It took the tension from his muscles, as he drew in a deep breath, but he slowly turned his eyes to Helblindi and glared. Helblindi simply sipped at his wine and waved, while his smirk never once left his face.

“I have known from the start, my son,” said Frigga. “I had many centuries to process what I uncovered, as well as to make sure that this was a consensual union, and I once assumed that it was just a phase, one that would end over time. I do not know how Helblindi became aware, but it is possible that one of the servants spoke out of turn or gossip spread beyond what I realised.”

“Is that how you found out?” Thor asked. “A little birdie told you?”

“It hardly matters how I found out,” said Helblindi. “I always suspected that this would end badly, especially considering the fact that it could only end in sacrifice and disownment. It’s ultimately what’s best for you both, but I still hurt to see you both hurt . . .”

Helblindi stood. He put away the chairs, before smoothing the cushions on the bench. It was nonchalant enough that nothing seemed amiss, and yet the lingering question caused Thor’s heart to race in his chest, until it blocked out all other sound. Helblindi walked over to them, while he tugged at the hems of his sleeves and perfected his outfit. The smile on his face softened, as it slowly turned into a frown, and – despite his status – Helblindi bowed low and deep, enough that Thor finally relaxed and let loose a heavy breath. The racing heartbeat slowed, as Helblindi said:

“I’ve never experienced a break-up myself, but I can sympathise.”

“I feel like I have lost a part of myself,” choked Thor.

“Thor, I am sorry for your loss,” whispered Frigga. “There is no greater pain for a mother than to see her son suffer, and I would gladly give my life if it meant that you and your brother would never have to shed a tear ever again, but this . . . I believe it to be a necessary evil. The pain you endure now is great, but it would have only been greater when extended over years, decades, or _centuries_ . . . Helblindi is right in that this would not have ended well.”

“The worst case would have been exile for you both,” continued Helblindi. “You would have been caught breaking the law regarding incest, which would have resulted in you being sent to somewhere like Midgard or Vanaheim, as you lost your citizenship.”

“Now I’m king,” Thor began. “I could –”

“Ah, yes, you could change the laws? That brings me to the best case scenario . . . you change the law, or you’re disowned, and you and Loki find a ‘compromise’, which means you giving up your dream of children or forcing him to conceive. Even if he provided you with an heir, you’d never be happy as a single parent. You said it yourself that you want a family unit.”

Thor turned his back on them. He buried his face into his hands, while he forced slow and deep breaths, but the cool air burned at the back of his throat, and bile burned at his tongue. He tilted back his head, as he dragged his hands away, and – in the distance – a figure walked across one of the balconies, with such dark skin that it may have been Byleistr or Loki. A low laugh fell from Thor’s lips, as he sniffed and shook his head. Thor turned back to them, as he tented his fingers before his face and strove to hide the tremble to his lips.

“I know logically that it’s for the best,” choked Thor. “I know that we would have been miserable in the long-term, as our needs wouldn’t have been met, but still . . . I _love_ him! I know it’s against the law. I know it’s a sin. I just look to him and see a handsome man, with a brilliant mind and exceptional personality, and I see someone my equal and match and potential partner.”

“He can still be your partner, Thor,” said Frigga. “Just not a romantic one.”

“I know . . . _I know_. It’s just that we were so _good_ together. There was real romance and passion and devotion, and if we could have wanted the same things -? I don’t know. I think it could have really worked! I think that’s the hardest part; I keep thinking about what we’ve lost, instead of what we’ve gained, and a part of me wonders whether a child is worth the loss of Loki. I wanted to grow old with him, share all our firsts together, and . . .”

“Have a child together?”

“It all comes around to that, yes. I suppose I was in love with the ideal, not the reality. I wanted what Loki could have given me, not what he did, and I think that Loki loved the dream, too. I think he wanted some ideal life with me, one that I couldn’t give him, and I think . . . I think that he just realised sooner than I did that we could both have everything with someone else, than just some things with each other. If we break up, maybe our ideals can become the reality.”

Thor dropped his arms to his side. Frigga reached for him; Thor pulled away and whispered a harsh ‘no’, as he lifted a hand to chop at the air in a pleading gesture, and he stepped back from the gravel onto the grass. The lines about her face deepened, and the lowering of her head cast her in a deep shadow. He muttered out an apology. A sharp pain pierced his throbbing temples, enough that it sent sparks of colour about his vision, and a low laugh fell from his lips, as he strove to fight off an encroaching migraine. He forced out in a broken voice:

“I suppose you’re both happy it’s over?”

“I’m happy that _finally_ you can find true happiness,” said Frigga. “I’m happy that you can find someone that you will not have to keep secret, and with whom you can have a family. I am happy that you will not be breaking the law. I am happy for many reasons, but I am still sad to see you in pain. I am still sad that I cannot take that pain from your heart.”

“I’ll feel better in time. I resent how quickly Helblindi seems to push for Loki to move forward, as if what we had meant nothing, and I resent him trying to set him up with other men, but I know that he at least means well . . . I just think we both need _time_ first and foremost.”

“I apologise,” said Helblindi. “I thought it the best way to move on.”

“Is he ready to move on? Let us grieve and mourn, please . . .”

“You’re still both young; if you’d both just –”

“I appreciate you mean well,” interrupted Thor. “You think that we will meet new people, forget all about what was between us, and we’ll finally be happy . . . maybe you’re right. I just don’t think either of us needs that _now_. We had centuries together. That kind of love doesn’t go away overnight, it takes time to process and readjust and redefine our relationship . . .”

Frigga smiled, as she came close beside him. A warm embrace followed, as she wrapped her arms around him and held him tight, and whispered an apology in his ear, before she pulled away with a lingering touch to his arms. The long fingers toyed with his cape and hair, fixing them as if he were nothing more than a small boy again. Thor blinked back tears. Frigga finally stepped back, even as her hand stroked at his cheek, and – with a nod of acknowledgement – walked away from the gardens towards the palace doors. Helblindi said in her absence:

“If what you need is time, we can give you that.”

He bowed deep once more. The green eyes never left Thor, and they bore into him with such intensity that it was difficult to decipher such a gesture, especially when the usual smile was entirely absent from his face. Thor took in a deep breath. He turned his back on Helblindi, who slowly rose and cricked his neck, and – looking over his shoulder – Thor was half-certain he saw almost genuine concern. Thor lowered his head and whispered:

“Thank you . . .”


	14. Part 3

The markets were a strange microcosm. It teemed with people, but those people appeared to be younger women in the same style of attire, and occasionally a small child would follow, with little hands tugging at their skirts. Byleistr frowned. The gender divide was hard to comprehend, but there was something universal about the process of such everyday chores. He clasped the basket in the crook of his arm, while he walked through the crowds with an impassive expression.

The people parted before him. A few children pointed with excited faces, as they babble about the tall man with the blue face, and the responses of the adults varied . . . a few reminded the young that their king also had blue skin, while others desperately warned them to keep away . . . Byleistr loudly bit the air at those people as he passed. Thor followed a few steps behind, muttering constant apologies, and continued to touch his elbow in an attempt to steer him to quieter corners, even as Byleistr shucked him away and hissed loudly in his direction. 

A small stall sat in a far corner, where jars adorned every surface. The labels spoke of various jams that came in all sorts of flavours and colours, and two stood side-by-side of the same hue and price, which Byleistr lifted in each hand. He read over the labels in detail, while Thor stopped beside him with his cape over his shoulders and hood over his head. Thor seemed to hide into the crowds, with plain attire and eyes cast low, and Byleistr asked in a loud voice:

“What do you recommend, Thor?”

Thor winced. He lifted the edge of his cape, before he used it to obscure part of his mouth. It was a childish attempt at ‘subterfuge’, broken by the seller’s whispered apology to ‘my prince’, and – with a groan – Thor threw back his hood and gave up his attempt at a disguise. He pointed instead to the jar that read ‘raspberries’. Byleistr grunted and dropped the jar into his basket, before handing some coins to the seller and walking away. Thor followed at a quick pace, albeit he struggled to keep up with Byleistr’s much longer legs, and muttered out:

“You know we have servants to shop for us?”

“Ah, a key cultural difference,” said Byleistr. “Do you know in our language ‘guard’ and ‘servant’ are the same word? They have a dual role, one unique to the royal palace. Still, if you were looking for souvenirs or presents or keepsakes, I doubt you’d send a servant, and it’s the same for us . . . I thought I’d shop for myself. It’s a more personal touch.”

“Hmm, you’re not like Helblindi,” observed Thor.

“You should get to know him better. There’s only one reason why you haven’t seen him out and about here on Asgard, and that’s because he’s a master of _seidr_ like Loki. He also passes as Asgardian, now that he’s dropped the illusion of a Jotun form, and he’s known for doing all his shopping himself, even back home. You know he’s shopped with the servants here, right? I think he’s made friends with a few. It’s the best way to get gossip and information.”

Thor stopped. He carried on again once Byleistr was a few steps ahead, but his gaze darted about the crowd as if in search or Helblindi or the servants, and – with very little seconds – Thor stopped looking about the dozens of faces, before he looked down with a blush. Byleistr scoffed. He moved over to the next stall, where a strong scent of cheeses wafted with the breeze, as he mumbled in a low voice: ‘ _you don’t even know the faces of your servants’._ Thor glared at him, even as he took a free sample and slowly chewed it with exaggerated gestures.

“He’s a good man,” said Thor. “He also fascinates me, but I still can’t understand him. Is he friends with the servants? Is he just using them? I feel that every conversation I have with him is just a verbal game for him . . . they call Loki the silver-tongued prince here, but at least his way with words ends at persuasions and doesn’t start with outright manipulation.”

“I know he’s manipulative, but he’s not a bad man.” Byleistr shrugged. “I find the best way to deal with him is to just outright confront him. It’s hard to use double-speak to avoid a direct question, plus he respects people confident enough to cut to the chase and those smart enough to know when he’s playing games. It’s not done maliciously. He enjoys rhetoric, and language is vital for politics, especially spotting and creating loopholes, but it can be . . . an irritation.”

“I still can’t get a straight answer from him about why he’s so sensitive about Magni. I find it hard to believe that the other father wouldn’t try to lay claim to a _prince_ as his son, as he’d stand to gain a lot of prestige and benefits and privileges from that alone. I also find it hard to believe a man who’d force himself on a king wouldn’t make news across the Nine Realms.”

“Unless he was killed for the offence?” Byleistr shrugged.

“Is that what happened?”

“Look, I’m not one for words. I’m sure Helblindi would just ask back ‘I don’t know, is it’, but I’m just going to be blunt . . . it’s not really your business. We give Magni everything that he could want in life, and Helblindi is an _amazing_ father, enough that I’m often jealous that I wasn’t able to provide the same for my children. I knew he’d be a good father. I knew it from the moment the baby was slid into his arms after the birth, when tears streamed down his face with pure joy and pride . . . I thought he’d never let Magni go, and – in a way – he hasn’t.”

A smile broke across Thor’s features. It added colour to his cheeks, as the sunlight shone through the columns of the arcade, and his blue eyes twinkled with a sincere expression. He handed coins to the seller, before he took a wheel of cheese and threw it high, and – catching it in one hand – tossed it into Byleistr’s basket. Thor slapped a hand on Byleistr’s upper arm, as he pointed over to a fountain towards the centre of the arcade. He led the way with a quick pace and asked:

“Is it difficult for him to be a single parent?”

Byleistr hummed, while he followed Thor. The fountain was made of solid marble, with a series of statues that appeared to depict the gods, and water trickled down from the upturned urns in those marble arms, while the low edge served as a seat for the people. It was a focal point and a meeting place, as people congregated or waited for friends, and littered across its base were coins of all currencies and sizes. Byleistr frowned to see a child stand backward and throw in a coin, but said nothing as Thor guided him to sit down on the marble edge. Byleistr admitted:

“I think it’s less difficult as a prince.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean that our people struggled after the genocide.” Byleistr winced. “Ingvar was lucky when his father remarried, as it was someone to share the burden, but many have been forced to juggle childcare with a career. A lot of our men have great trauma from the war, which only makes it so much harder to then raise a child alone. Helblindi was forced to intervene.”

“Ah, the orphanage,” said Thor.

“Not just the orphanage. He created community programmes to help families, as well as recruited midwives and childcare providers from across Jotunheim to live in the villages with the most deaths, and he even created a ‘fostering’ system for when the orphanage was full, which is an idea he took from Midgard and Vanaheim. It isn’t easy to raise a child alone.

“Helblindi struggled in the first year, as I bet Loki told you in detail. He was so protective of Magni that we feared maybe he was depressed or anxious, so we almost had to hold an intervention and find him professional help, and even now he’s _terrified_ someone will come to take Magni from him. Magni is his life. I think if anything ever happened to that boy, he would either take his life or wage war on those that harmed him unlike anything other seen.”

Byleistr put down the basket. He leaned back to reach a hand towards the waters, where the cool liquid brushed against his cold fingers, and – with a smile – drew strange shapes in on the surface, until ripples expanded out and broke against the statues in the centre. The smile soon died on sight of Thor’s frown. Thor leaned forward, where his hands gripped the marble until his knuckles turned white, and his canine tooth dug into his lower lip. The rushing waters provided a relaxing background noise, even as the tension visibly tightened at those broad shoulders.

“Is that why he never mentions Magni’s father?” Thor asked. “Is he scared that the man will lay a claim to Magni? Even if the man isn’t eligible for custody, is it possible that his family are eligible for access or that they have some other claim to him?”

“Hmm,” confirmed Byleistr. “It’s why I ask you to be patient with him.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t make it any less offensive that he won’t let me near Magni. I understand; honestly, I understand his fears . . . I get that emotions aren’t rational or easily controlled, so that whatever trauma he has faced won’t be easily swept away, but at the same time -? _I_ wasn’t the one to hurt him. _I’m_ not the one with a claim on the child. It feels personal.”

“Thor, a guard once smiled at Magni . . . he had them transferred.”

“Isn’t that proof enough of how much this fear consumes him? This is borderline paranoia. He won’t even release pictures of Magni, like other realms do for their heirs, and for a while we weren’t even sure the gender of Magni, as no one could see him to know if he was even Jotun!”

Byleistr rolled his eyes, as he stood and took his basket. The people whispered and laughed and gossiped, like people of any plaza and in any realm, but their stares were always towards the fountain, while their words were hidden behind their hands. He waved in their direction. It was enough for the crowds to disperse, as he walked with a slow pace towards a stall that sold items for children, and – with a bright smile – he packed his basket full of items. He asked for a few to be inscribed with ‘Steinn’ or ‘Fannar’ according to which child which item would be given.

The basket was nearly full by the time Thor arrived. Thor opened his mouth, but Byleistr raised a hand and refused to look in his direction. It stopped the words before they were born, as Byleistr paid for the toys and accepted the newly inscribed items, and he finally turned with the abrupt spin of a soldier. He stood to attention. The posture was perfect, while his gaze was hard, and when he spoke it was with a hard and slow voice that left no room for argument. 

“Look, Thor, I will not let you or anyone else see Magni.”

“It’s not your decision to –”

“Do you wish to fight me? I will fight you.”

Thor said nothing. Byleistr chuckle out a low ‘ _thought not’_. He pushed past Thor, where he shoved him to one side with the force of his arm, and headed back towards the palace, as Thor muttered a low insult that was just quiet enough to be incomprehensible. The crowds grew less and less along the path through the plaza, while the servants increased in numbers. Thor clenched his fists. He pursed and pressed his lips, as he caught up with Byleistr, and darted before him, before he raised a hand and forced Byleistr to come to a stop, as he spat out:

“Is there a reason beyond just post-partum fears?”

“In part, I suspect Helblindi worries Magni might make you broody,” sighed Byleistr. “You’ve always wanted a family and children, and seeing Magni might make you long for those things with Loki, which wouldn’t be helpful when things are so complicated between you two.”

“We’re not together now, though.”

“Ah, so we let a depressed man around the one thing that he can’t have? You need time to process the break-up, which you said yourself to Helblindi, and so why do you think it would be a good idea to be around children, especially ones biologically related to Loki? He’s the boy’s uncle. You don’t think you wouldn’t look at Magni and think about what could have been?”

Thor dropped his hand, as he stepped to one side. Byleistr nodded to him and continued to walk, but purposely slowed down his pace to allow Thor to fall into step, and together they walked out onto the sloping hill that would lead to the palace. A series of guards lined either side, while a nobleman rode by them on a horse a pure white. Byleistr did a small double-take. The shade would be perfectly camouflaged with Jotunheim climes, but – as he mentally worked out the logistics of importing them within Jotunheim – Thor asked in a quiet voice:

“How are you so calm?”

“What?”

“About me and Loki,” said Thor. “Helblindi won’t let it slip how he knows, but I suspect that he’s been watching us for some time. I’m not offended, as Loki is the same, and Mother is forever using her _seidr_ to watch other realms and project her image to others. It’s a part of politics, isn’t it? You always have to get an advantage over your opponent, which means knowing all there is to know about them and keeping one step ahead.

“Still, there’s one thing to know, but another thing to accept. I understand that my mother had centuries to process what was happening, but you must have had . . . what . . . a few years at most? If we assume you only took interest in Asgard _after_ Loki first made contact with Jotunheim, you would have known for less than a decade! Why so calm over such a crime?”

“I’ll not speak for Helblindi.” Byleistr shrugged. “I’ll just say that I honestly find it rather . . . abhorrent. I just know that there’s no point casting judgement over what’s already been done, and I’m not going to make a bad situation worse by casting shade over you both.”

“I . . . thank you, Byleistr.”

“If it happens again though, I may have a _lot_ to say in response.”

Byleistr cracked his knuckles, as he half-smiled towards Thor. He adjusted the basket in his arm, while he picked up his pace, and Thor – with a visible tremble to his hand – struggled to keep up alongside him, while his jaw clenched enough that teeth looked like they might break. Thor ran his hands through his hair, while he took in a slow and deep breath. Byleistr caught the wince to those pale features, enough that he muttered an apology, and he slowed his pace again, while tears pricked at Thor’s eyes and he chopped at the air with a firm hand.

“I talk to my father in my dreams,” choked Thor.

“Does he talk back?”

“Aye, it’s a chore to get him to shut up,” laughed Thor. “It feels good. It feels less good to wake up and feel that loss all over again, like a fresh wound to my heart, but I would take every ounce of pain for that one moment of happiness. I carry him with me every day. I hear him whisper advice to me and chide me for my mistakes. I know he wouldn’t want me to be with Loki.”

“I can hazard a guess that you’re probably right.”

“I just feel like I have nothing right now . . . I lost my father, I lost my lover, and I never even really had my cousins in my life to feel that I’ve lost them, too. This conversation now is the most honest and sincere that I’ve had with either of you since we’ve met.”

Byleistr stopped. They were close to the rear entrance, where the servants’ quarters were clear across a small courtyard, and smoke billowed from the kitchen windows, as several assistants and maids were herded out by a screaming chef. Byleistr scratched at the back of his neck. He tilted back his head to gaze at the clear skies above, where not even a single cloud dared mar the otherwise perfect blue, and reached a hand towards Thor, where he took a broad shoulder and squeezed. Byleistr locked eyes with Thor, who said with a smile and upbeat tone:

“When do you return to Jotunheim?”

“I think Helblindi plans to leave early tomorrow,” said Byleistr. “He’s taking Magni while it’s still dark, and I’ll follow the next day as planned with our possessions. I’d have rather gone first, as I miss my family, but Helblindi won’t let Magni travel without him.”

“Why is he travelling in such secrecy at such a time?”

“Who knows? I don’t question him.”

A frown marred Byleistr’s features. He slid the basket down into his hands, where he clasped the wicker handle with a firm grip. A servant giggled from across the courtyard, as they stood underneath an olive tree lined with small lights, and – with a blush – he noted the basket in her hands, the women at the marketplace, and Thor’s one-time rage at being called ‘princess’. He huffed and held tighter to the basket. He bore his teeth in her direction. The servant soon scarpered away, as Byleistr spun around and said in a firm voice to Thor:

“You should go say ‘goodbye’ to him _with_ Magni.”

“What point would that serve?”

Byleistr darted towards the kitchens, as he waved casually to Thor. He took long and fast strides, enough so that an Asgardian would struggle to keep pace, and he waved to Thor back by the gates, without even so much as a second-glance back to him. The servants bowed as he walked past them, and a few muttered whispers of ‘ergi’ could be heard above the din of general greetings and polite acknowledgements. He was already long away in the corridor towards the guest quarters, when he heard Thor give a weak chase not far behind him. 

“Byleistr!” Thor cried. “ _Byleistr_ . . .!”


	15. Part 3

“Helblindi, wait!”

It was cold. The morning breeze shook at the branches above, while every rushed footstep left visible marks in the freshly mowed grass, and Thor – panting for breath – lunged over bushes and ducked under low hanging limbs. A sharp pain struck at the back of his throat, as he sucked in the cold air and it burned with every breath. The ache to his muscles threatened to slow him down, as Helblindi continued to walk to the main doors, and Thor called once again:

“ _Helblindi_!”

Helblindi stopped. He kept his back to Thor, as Thor finally breached the distance. A few stray guards stopped to watch, where they marched along the perimeter, and a waved hand brought them to a stop, as they returned to their routine. Thor panted. He dropped his hands to his thighs, as he drew in deep gulps of air that only added to the burning sensation. The silence of the gardens was broken by a few nocturnal birds, which tweeted out an odd tune . . .

The panted breaths soon stopped. Thor put a gentle hand on Helblindi’s shoulder, while Helblindi turned with his arms so tightly wrapped around Magni that Thor momentarily feared for the child. There was tension to every limb. The canine teeth were bared, as Helblindi narrowed his eyes and stepped backward. Thor raised his hands and whispered: ‘ _it’s me, it’s Thor’._ It stole the tension from Helblindi, who let loose an audible gasp and hunched forward, and his legs threatened to give way, as his knees bent with the sudden weight.

The dark skies caught at his hair, so that it looked like liquid ink. It was loose, like one disturbed from a sleep and without time to style it into something more practical, and yet it was sleek and smooth, enough that Magni’s small hand toyed with a lock in his sleep. Thor smiled, as he reached out to stroke the small sleep of that young child. Helblindi gasped. He spun with such force that Magni stirred and moaned in his sleep, but he was quickly out of reach.

“Sorry,” said Thor. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I thought you knew it was me.”

“How did you know we’d be leaving now?”

Helblindi never looked at Thor. He kept his eyes on Magni, while his long fingers ran over every inch of Magni, as if in search of any injuries or lasting marks. A heavy exhale fell from him, as he finally cradled that small head and guided it back to his chest. He buried his head into the wavy hair. The smile was bright and sincere, as he pressed a kiss to the black locks, and he rocked Magni back and forth, while breathing in his scent. Thor rolled his eyes, before stepping back and giving them some space. He asked in a low and quiet voice:

“Does it matter?”

“It matters when I only told my brother,” said Helblindi. “I even left an hour earlier, and took a different route to the bridge, as it would be foolish to trust even one person. If I know how you managed to find me, I can perhaps hide myself better in future.”

“Ah, all the more incentive _not_ to tell you,” teased Thor.

“Cousin, this is serious. This is a matter of my child’s security and safety.”

“Surely, it’d be safer and securer for you to _tell_ us your plans? We could have guards escort you, servants watch out for you, and we would have known if anything were to happen. Look, I understand that you’re scared that the father may have a claim to the child, but if you really care for Magni then you wouldn’t take these risks. What if I had meant you ill will?”

“Oh, is that meant to put my mind at rest? If it came down to that, I am a master of _seidr_ and self-defence. I might not be able to best you in battle, but I could have best any other man or woman that found me out without my consent. I have nothing to fear.”

“Then you had no reason to leave like this.”

“You said it yourself; a big procession would risk the attention of Magni’s father.”

Helblindi nodded at Thor, as he continued to hold Magni close. A hand cradled that soft head, with the arm covering his body, and the other bore the weight of the child, while he hunched slightly enough to almost encase Magni. He turned to head back towards the doors, but Thor darted towards him and grabbed at his upper-arm. The skin was bare. A dark blush crept over Thor, as he slowly slid his hand away, and he looked Helblindi over. He had returned to the traditional Jotun garb, in this case a long tunic and some accessories. Thor muttered:

“The father would have seen you at the funeral, surely?”

The glare from Helblindi was dark. He slowly rake his eyes over Thor, while his nostrils flared and lips pressed into a thin line, and he bounced Magni in his arms with a gentle rhythm, as if to facilitate a natural sleep. The boy was still dressed in the strange hybrid of attire. It covered every inch of skin, as if to prevent accidental skin-on-skin touches or anyone staring too hard at his blue skin, but the material was thin enough to allow his body to breathe. Helblindi finally lifted his head and straightened his back, as he assumed a regal and graceful position.

“You’ve been watching me,” said Helblindi. “That’s how you knew.”

“If it helps, you were hard to tail.”

“ _Hardly_.”

“Well, I’m just glad that Byleistr told me.” Thor smiled. “I wanted to thank you for coming to pay your respects, and it’s been good to spend more time with you both, even if it’s been just a few days and a few hours here and there. You’re my cousin, but more than that . . . you’re a connection to Jotunheim and to my father. I like having a family.”

“You can visit us any time,” said Helblindi.

“Just not Magni?” Thor shook his head. “It’s why I was surprised Byleistr told me that you were leaving Asgard, as he seems to support you so completely in your decisions, and . . . to be honest . . . I sometimes fear that he hates me. He spends most of his time antagonising me, and he seems so standoffish. I’ve nearly gotten into fights with him a few times.”

“Hmm, he takes after Mother.” Helblindi smiled. “He teases and taunts people he admires, as he considers them equals and capable of understanding it’s in jest, and he is _very_ expressive. There were times when he would _scream_ at her and her at him, until they were both red in the face, and yet – bizarrely – they would stop as if on a whim and return to laughter and kindness. I never quite understood that behaviour. They yelled and yet didn’t mean it to be aggressive.”

“Ah, it may be a family trait. I take a little after Father, and I guess he shared that trait with Fárbauti, but somehow I never quite recognised it with Byleistr. A part of me fears it an old-rooted prejudice, but equally I suppose that I just never thought a Jotun could consider me an equal or family . . . not after what Loki and I did to Jotunheim.”

A low sigh fell from Helblindi. He dropped his shoulders and lowered his gaze, while a frown knitted together his eyebrows, and – as tension fell from his muscles – his lips pursed and opened as if in search of a word, before finally a smile broke across his features. The moonlight caught at his green eyes, catching enough to emphasis a few freckles in the iris. Thor looked away, as he scratched at his neck and flushed until his cheeks turned red. They kept their small distance beneath the trees, but Helblindi bowed his head and nodded back towards the guest suites.

“Byleistr respects you as his cousin,” said Helblindi.

“I’m glad he didn’t tell me to see you in jest,” replied Thor. “I half-expected a wild goose chase, or perhaps that things would go badly and he would get the last laugh, but it seems that he meant well and that confuses me . . . if he knows how much it would hurt you to be found, why would he put me in a situation to find you? Do you need my help? Is that it? Are you too proud to ask?”

“Do I look like a man that ever requires help?”

“You look like you can fend for yourself, but even a strong man requires support at times. Look, I’m no fool . . . you wouldn’t need to sneak away if there wasn’t a risk, and there’d only be risk if the father was somewhere here on Asgard. Is the father Asgardian, Helblindi?”

A few tears pricked at those green eyes. There was a tremble to Helblindi’s lips, as he slowly walked back to the centre of the garden, and – with great care and repositioning of Magni – Helblindi lowered himself onto one of the wrought-iron benches. He sat with legs kept together and back straight. Magni was moved so that his ear rested on his father’s heart, while his tiny legs rested on either side of his lap. Helblindi rubbed slow circles on his back. He hummed a low tune that sent vibrations through his chest, and Magni smiled in his sleep at the sound.

“Yes, the father is an Asgardian man,” whispered Helblindi.

“Magni looks so much like a Jotun, though.”

“It’s an illusion. It’s the same one that I wore for the past millennia, Thor. You would have done the same, surely? I would do anything to protect my son . . . he needs me as his father, and less questions would have been asked with people assuming him to be Jotun. Let them think it a one-night stand, an attack, or even a broken affair with a citizen. It happens often enough.”

“Not to a king,” said Thor. “They would expect you to marry the other father. It wouldn’t matter if you dissolved the relationship, or even if there was no relationship, unless . . . unless there was a lack of consent. I always suspected, and you always implied, but –”

“Thor, I need you to stop guessing the circumstances. _Stop_.”

Thor winced. He walked slowly towards the bench. Helblindi slid to the very edge, as Thor took a seat beside him. The quiet between them was broken by an owl overhead, along with the clinking of metal armour as the guards made their rounds, and small breaths from Magni pierced through the air with a gentle rhythm. Magni looked peaceful. There were no lines on his face, which was free from all emotion and looked sculpted from marble in all its perfection.

A faint smile passed over Thor, as he reached towards Magni. He stopped. The callused fingers hung midair, as he looked briefly to Helblindi, and Helblindi slowly nodded, even as he visibly swallowed back the lump in his throat. The tears returned, even as he looked away. They caused his eyes to sparkle in the moonlight; a tear fell from his eye and slid down his chin, where it dropped onto the wavy black hair below. Magni remained still. He stirred only when the breaths from Helblindi grew staggered or broken, but even then a soft kiss lulled him back asleep.

Thor slowly broke the distance. He stroked at Magni’s cheek. It was smooth to the touch, despite the visible lines and ridges that were unique to his kind. A frown passed over Thor, as he thought back to Loki . . . _ridges hard and immovable, unlike scars, yet smooth patterns one could trace under fingertips_. . . Thor ran his hands over the forehead, neck, and finally hands. There was nothing. He pulled back his hand and bit into his lip, as he cast a hard look to Helblindi.

“The ridges are a part of the illusion,” observed Thor.

“My _seidr_ is nowhere at the level of Bor or Odin,” choked Helblindi. “They were able to create an illusion so strong that it was even able to fool the tactile senses, and not even Loki was able to tell his heritage until the extreme cold of the casket temporarily broke the illusion.”

“You could have asked Loki or Mother to cast the spell.”

“The less people that knew, the better.” Helblindi sighed. “Loki was also at the birth, along with Agnar and Byleistr, but I was the first person to hold Magni. I cast the spell with what _seidr_ I had almost immediately, and no one else had any idea. Agnar was the only other person who knew, as he acted as what you would call the ‘midwife’. We were the only two.”

“Surely, he would have told Byleistr?”

“My relationship with Byleistr is like yours with Loki . . . well, sans the need for a condom. I knew that Agnar would have told him, but I had already told him in complete detail of my intent to cast _seidr_ on the child as soon as he was born. Loki still doesn’t know.”

Thor rested his arms on the back of the bench. He cast back his head, where above the stars glittered and painted the skies with a silvery pattern, and a faint smile broke across him, as he remembered counting the constellations with his father as a child. The quickening of his heart brought with it a spark of adrenaline . . . _Asgardian father, Asgardian form_. . . every beat was loud in his ears, drowning out all other sounds. Thor pursed his lips, as his mouth ran dry. He ran a hand over his face, while the moonlight shone down, and blinked back tears.

“If the father is Asgardian, I can intervene,” whispered Thor. “I’ve had my coronation. I’ve taken the crown and assumed the role of king. If the relationship between you is over, I can mediate and assure you of your rights. If – god forbid – he has raped you or molested you in –”

“Don’t use those words,” chided Helblindi. “He is five, Thor!”

“I’m sorry, but I –”

“I’m a good father, Thor. I’ve taught him about consent; I’ll even ask him permission when he needs help bathing or dressing, and I’ll stop anyone from hugging him without asking him first for his permission . . . it starts young, Thor. Still, there is a big difference between teaching him about boundaries and instilling a fear that will inhibit all future relationships.”

Helblindi stood. He rocked Magni back and forth, while tears continued to stream. The look shot towards Thor was difficult to decipher, with the narrowing of a glare and the softening of adoration, and his lips pressed over and over to Magni’s head, while he stepped away from Thor. Each step made the gravel crunch underfoot, until he was back on the grass. He stopped when his back touched on the rough bark of the tree, while the shadows of the branches hid his tears and kept him shrouded in darkness, and when he spoke his words were barely a whisper:

“Thor, you can be remarkably dense at times.”

“I do not understand,” said Thor.

“ _Precisely,_ Cousin.”

A cool breeze caught at Thor’s cape. He leaned forward, but Helblindi stepped back. It was enough to have him flush against the bark, so that any further attempts at ‘steps’ would prove difficult to say the least, and a harsh exhale of breath betrayed his fear. Thor stood. Helblindi held so tight onto Magni’s clothing that his knuckles turned white. It struck Thor hard. The bile rose in his chest, until it burned at the back of his throat, and each breath came out as a pant, while he lifted a trembling hand towards Helblindi. Helblindi bore a trembling smile.

“I wasn’t coerced, Thor,” said Helblindi. “I also didn’t consent, either.”

“It must be one or the other,” spat Thor.

“Thor, this is not something I wanted to admit, but I’ve never exactly made it _secret_ , either. I’ve always been open about the fact that I wanted a child and could never have one, but there’s an expectation on men in Asgard to be ‘active’, for want of a better word. I’m still . . . _inactive_. It’s rather difficult to find a potential partner, but even more so now I have an Asgardian form.”

“No . . . No, I’m misunderstanding. How could you have given birth when –”

“I _didn’t_ give birth. That’s why I’m so protective of Magni. _He’s my son_! I have all the legal paperwork and informed consent of his biological carrier, and I won’t have him stolen from me the way that Loki was stolen from our family . . . Father could endure the pain, but not me . . . I would die to lose him at this stage! I wouldn’t have brought him here, but he needed to be here. He needed to say goodbye. He needed to experience Asgardian culture.”

“You – You said that you were there at the birth, but you said that only Byleistr and Loki were there . . . Agnar was tending to the birth, so he couldn’t be the biological father. I suppose Byleistr would trust you enough to give you his child, but why the secrecy in that case?”

“Why indeed?”

“That only leaves Loki, though. Loki wouldn’t . . . he couldn’t . . .”

Thor brought his hands upward. He tented them before his mouth, as his mouth jerked between a smile and frown, and tears distorted his vision until the world was a blur. The cold air chilled his bones. He walked in circles, while he struggled to catch his breath. It burned his throat, while bile and tears and saliva caught in the back of his mouth, and strange gurgled sounds escaped him, until his trembling hands clenched and unclenched without intent. There was no longer control over his body, as he fought to breathe and choked out:

“Remove the illusion!”

Helblindi continued to shake his head, even as he raised a trembling hand. It took several attempts to break the illusion, as his lips failed to form the words through tears, and slowly the illusion began to fall, like water dripping from bare flesh. The blue skin gave way for white skin, with a faint trace of pink to the cheeks, and the black hair made way for blond hair, as the familiar waves tumbled over his shoulders. Thor broke into eerie laughter. It spilled from his lips hollow and cold, as he paced back and forth with hands gripping at his hair.

“Magni is five,” said Thor.

“He is five.”

“The Bifrost was not complete then,” said Thor. “You – You . . . You did not have the Casket back, as we had no means to get it to your people, and the path that Loki taught to Laufey was heavily watched, so that only he could pass through with myself or our mother. _I_ was the only Asgardian in Jotunheim. _You_ were never in Asgard. He’s not yours . . .”

“He is _mine_ ,” wept Helblindi. “He is _my_ son!”

The scream reverberated through that chest. Magni stirred and rubbed tiny white fists against his eyes, while his mouth opened wide in a large yawn, and Thor instinctively stepped to him – with arm extended ready for a soothing touch – even as Helblindi stumbled away, with head shaking over and over with a repeated ‘ _no, no, no’_. Thor raised his hands in surrender. He stepped back, but Helblindi refused to loosen his hold. He was further into the garden, away from the gravel path, and seemed to instinctively hide among the trees and flowers. Thor swallowed back tears.

“Loki was away for six months at a time,” said Thor. “It would have been easy to extend his stay by a month, as we wouldn’t have denied him, and it’s easy enough to the first trimester . . . he’s also known as a ‘shape-shifter’, as his illusions are so good. How far was he when he went to Jotunheim? How did you hide this from me? How did he hide the effects?”

“Thor, it . . . it’s not important.”

“I have a right to know.”

“You have no right –”

“ _Tell me_!”

Magni cried. It was loud and broken. He threw his arms around Helblindi’s neck, while the billowing scream brought the patrolling guards to a standstill, and every one held tight onto their weapons, as they stood staring at the two kings within the garden. The gazes of each one moved between Thor and Helblindi. A few security lights came to life, as they cast long shadows on Thor that stretched out for some distance. He paced with fingers scratching at his head, until – with a wince – blood appeared beneath his fingernails as he pulled his hands away.

A soft song fell from Helblindi, as he rocked Magni and forced a smile. He pressed Magni’s head back down, while he kept his hand firm on the now blond locks, and his expression changed in an instant, as he bore his teeth and narrowed his eyes. The tearstained cheeks shone in the moonlight, as he threw Thor a warning glare that made his blood run col. Thor stopped. He forced slow and deep breaths, while Magni wept and struggled against Helblindi.

“You’re scaring my son,” spat Helblindi.

“ _Your_ son?”

Thor choked back on his tears. He reached towards Magni again, even despite the great distance, and his shaking hand slowly fell through the air, where it landed limp at his side. Thor wiped at his face and nose, while a cold sweat broke over his skin . . . it was like being doused with ice-cold water, as it slowly dripped down his flesh, and his fingers and scalp crawled with what felt like ants, until he was forced to scratch and claw to rid the sensations. He fought for breath, as he pointed a warning finger to Helblindi and struggled to keep it steady, as he croaked out:

“You’re not to leave Asgard, Helblindi.”

“Excuse me?” Helblindi shook his head. “I am currently a _king_ of a realm. I helped to revolutionise Jotunheim, which has already been ravished and decimated by your people, but now you want to hold me hostage? First Loki, now Magni . . . is that it?”

“You have every right to leave,” said Thor. “Magni does not.”

“You’re not taking my son from me.”

“No, _but neither will you take my son from me_! I ask that you give me time to process this news, maybe a few days to calm down, and then we will _talk_ with an appropriate mediator. I want to assess both Asgardian laws and Jotunheim laws, but – more than that – I want access to my damned son that you and Loki had denied me for five years!”

Thor spun around. The racing heartbeat blocked out all sounds, as he panted fast and shallow, and soon the world moved even as he stood still, while all blood seemed to leave his head. It was a terrible light-headed sensation. It took every ounce of strength to make his legs work, as he marched away from the garden towards the palace. The pace was slow at first, while he staggered and tripped over his feet, but soon he picked up speed and kept straight.

He ignored all guards and servants, as he marched through the corridors. The vision before him was strange, with a tunnel vision that throbbed on the borders in time with his heart, and the tension to his muscles brought an ache to his stomach. He walked faster. The walk grew into a jog and finally into a run, as he raced a familiar path to the courtyard, and his heart beat faster and faster with every step. Time stopped. A sharp ache struck his temple, as sparks of colour danced about his eyesight, and already he was at the courtyard . . . no memory of the walk . . .

The memorial stone lay centre of the small space. Frigga knelt before the simple structure, where she lit a small votive candle and wiped a tear from her eyes, and beside her Loki stood with his head low and hands clasped before his lap. The familiar words of a prayer echoed out . . . _‘– for those who have died a glorious death –’_. . . Thor marched closer. He knocked over a servant on the way past, drawing the attention of Frigga who jumped to her feet, and soon Loki looked over his shoulder, as he knitted together his eyebrows in concern.

Thor roared and raced toward him. It was instinctual. It was instant. He threw his hands against the dark lapel, as he forced Loki off the ground and slammed him against the stone. The sound of his skull on stone was loud enough to bring a scream from Frigga, while Loki swore and brought his hands to his head, and – as he pulled back bloody fingers – Thor leaned close enough that his breath fell on those blue lips. Thor rammed his forearm under his neck, as he cried out:

“ _I will make you pay, Loki!”_

Frigga grabbed at Thor’s cape, while her other hand pried at his forearm. He pushed her back, before snatching again at Loki’s collar and tossing him with great force, enough that Loki stumbled almost to the floor . . . _hands touched at the ground, cape went over his head . . ._ Thor made to lunge towards him, but Frigga dived between them. The paleness to her cheeks betrayed her horror, as she pressed against his chest with all her strength. He pressed back several times, caught between a white-hot rage and undying loyalty to his mother. Frigga spat out in a whisper:

“ _Thor_! What has come over you?”

“Do you know what he’s done? _Do you?_ ”

He gently pushed her aside by her shoulder. It was more forceful than intended, but soft enough that no harm was caused, and – with spit still falling from his lips – he roared out yet again, while his finger jabbed at the air towards Loki. Loki stood with hands before him. He was hunched over, while he walked backwards with stuttered words dying on his lips, and yet Thor heard nothing over the hisses from his nostrils and blood in his ears. Thor made to dive for him, but Frigga grabbed at him again with a screamed ‘ _no_ ’. Loki choked out:

“Thor, about Magni . . . I can explain, he –”

“He’s my son?” Thor laughed. “I know, Loki! _I fucking know_!”

Thor fell back. He stumbled and staggered, until he collapsed against the stone. The blood slowed, the breath returned to his lungs, and finally . . . with vision returning . . . the world crashed down on him, until the tears spilled freely down his cheeks. He slid downward until his buttocks struck the ground. He threw back his head to the skies. Thor raised steadying hands before his face, as he licked at his lips and swallowed back the blood and bile.

“He’s my _son_ . . .”


	16. Part 4

The fireplace roared in the chamber. It cast long shadows across the floor, as Thor paced back and forth within the archway that separated the lounge from the antechamber. He kept his head low, enough that his blond locks fell about his face, and it darkened his expression, as his nostrils flared and lips pursed into a thin line. The racing of his heart blocked out most other sounds, while he forced low and slow breaths, and the fireplace crackled in the distance.

Loki sat on the sofa before the fire, where he held his wrist on his lap. He ran his thumb over the skin, as his fingers traced at the ridges that marked his flesh, and he stared down with a wistful expression, with his half-lidded eyes barely showing a slither of crimson. The leathers and thick layers emphasised his still exceptional figure, but the way he hunched only made the small pouch of weight on his stomach more obvious. It may have been mistaken as general weight-gain with passing years, but it was something else: the remnants of a pregnancy carried to full-term.

Thor marched before the fireplace. The pace was quick and every step echoed about the lounge, as he stopped just a few feet before Loki, and – tenting his trembling hands before his mouth – he took in slow hissed breaths, while his vision distorted with tears. The fire behind him cast him in darkness, while he obstructed the light from touching upon Loki. He forced a smile. It shook with lips that refused to steady, and it failed to reach his blue eyes, as he choked out:

“He’s my _son_ , Loki.”

A cold glare emanated from Loki. He narrowed his eyes even further, until the red became an ominous warning against the blue skin, and his head slowly tilted upward, with the little light casting dark shadows in the worst of places. The fingers on his wrist tightened, as he applied pressure and gripped tight around the limb. Thor struggled to draw in enough breath, as the occasional hiccup sound escaped him, and his head shook back and forth, while tears spilled down and tasted bitter against his tongue. Loki curled his lip and looked Thor over.

“No, he’s _Helblindi’s_ son,” spat Loki.

“Funny, I never slept with Helblindi.” Thor flared his nostrils. “Magni is from _my_ seed. He was borne from our union . . . a _consensual_ union . . . if he had been born on Asgard, I would have been granted parental rights after a DNA test. I would have been on his birth certificate, instead of Helblindi down as ‘carrier’ and the word ‘unknown’ down for the other father!”

“So say you slept with Helblindi and be listed as the other father.”

“ _Don’t trivialise what you’ve done_! This isn’t just about being _recognised_ as his father, but about _being_ his father . . . he’s five now; that’s five years missing five birthdays, five years missing all his big firsts, and five years in which he grew into a child with no input from me. I missed out on years of laughter, tears, arguments . . . you stole five years from me . . . _you stole them_!”

The tears fell hot and fast down his cheeks. They left visible marks against his pale skin, while they dripped down onto his chest and the tiles below, and slowly the small tearstains spread out, as is growing along with his pain. He dropped his hands limply to his sides, while the adrenaline left his veins and was replaced with a lightheaded sensation. The lounge spun around him, as his skin pricked with goose-bumps, and the sight of Loki blurred, as he swayed where he stood. A crackle from the fire made him flinch. He half-smiled, as he choked out:

“You stole them . . .”

Loki opened his mouth, but soon closed it again. There was softness to his expression, as his eyes watered in turn, and he subtle rolled his head with a broken smile, while he patted the sofa cushion beside him with an unsteady hand. Thor stumbled over to the sofa. He dropped down with a heavy thud, before he threw his head between his knees, and – forcing back broken sobs – stared hard at the tiles underfoot. Loki stroked at his back. The movements were soft and gentle, reminiscent of their mother’s touch when they were ill as children, and it was enough for Thor to tilt his head slowly towards Loki, just enough to see him through blond hair. He whispered:

“Why did you hide it, Loki?”

“Do you remember six-and-a-half years ago?” Loki smiled. “We were going through a rough patch. It was an endless cycle of fighting about whether to go public with our relationship or not, and time and time again I said we should just call it a day, but you -? You wouldn’t leave me. I should have ended it on my terms, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave you either.

“We argued the day before the coronation. You wanted me to be your consort, and I thought you too immature to be king in the first place, which – I’ll add – you proved me right with your actions on Jotunheim that set all of this into motion in the first place! In any case, we ran around and around in circles like always, until the anger turned to passion and you threw me against a wall and tore open my shirt. We made love against the wall, on the bed, in the bath . . .”

“Is that when the child was conceived?”

“No,” said Loki. “The spell on me wasn’t like the one on Helblindi or Magni . . . it was more intrinsic than that, enough that it effectively _did_ transform me into an Asgardian. It wasn’t perfect, and – looking back – I still had some Jotun traits, but it did enough of a job that I had the reproductive organs of a cisgender Asgardian man. I couldn’t have conceived, even if I’d wanted to conceive, not without a _lot_ of medical intervention. It was the biggest issue back then . . .

“I think a part of you thought I didn’t want a child because I _couldn’t_ have a child. You would go on endlessly about surrogates and sperm donation and medical science advancements, and then when you found out I was Jotun . . . you constantly spoke about children, as if the only issue before had been the logistics of physically conceiving a child! It wasn’t that, Thor.”

Thor bit into his lower lip. The taste of iron struck his tongue, while the tears continued to fall down his cheeks, and bile broke at the back of his throat, as he swallowed hard and took in a staggered breath. He wiped away the tears. The hand on his back slid slowly away, as Loki threw himself back against the sofa with a heavy sigh. He parted his legs; blue hands clasped on his lap, as he tilted back his head and stared at the murals above, and a visible sweat broke about his brow, as the fireplace cast heat upon his skin. Thor watched him closely from his bent position.

“The Casket broke the _seidr_ on me, Thor,” said Loki. “I also lacked the skill of Father, and I was only able to create the illusion of my Asgardian form, like what Helblindi cast on Magni. It meant that I was able to fall pregnant at any time, as suddenly I had the reproductive organs and fertility of a Jotun, and . . . and most of the time it wasn’t too much an issue . . .”

“I assumed the submissive role,” muttered Thor.

“You were lucky not to get pregnant either, considering you’re one-quarter Jotun. Plus, when I was the submissive partner . . . when we _did_ that specific act . . . you’d generally pull out or finish in other ways, so it was rarely an issue. I don’t know _when_ exactly Magni was conceived, but I know it was the first summer I came back after my first winter in Jotunheim.

“You joked that we had six months to make up for, and we should store up enough experiences to survive my next six months away, too . . . I doubt we spent a single night outside each other’s beds. Mother warned me that the relationship was a bad idea, but I still slept with you.”

The fire crackled and sparked. Loki stood. He walked slowly towards the fireplace, where he waved a hand across the air with a half-clasped hand, and the fire made way for snow, as the familiar cyclone appeared beyond the protective barrier. The white light illuminated the lounge, while casting long shadows through the archway into the antechamber. Loki half-turned. He kept his arms folded over his chest, as he looked over his shoulder to Thor. There was a sparkle to those red eyes that spoke of unshed tears. Thor winced and diverted his gaze.

“I was already two months pregnant when I went back to Jotunheim,” said Loki. “I was starting to put two-and-two together, and I waited until I was in Jotunheim to have Agnar confirm what I already suspected. He used to be a fully trained midwife before he became a full-time father.”

“So you would have been pregnant on your return to Asgard?”

“No, a Jotun pregnancy is roughly six months. I was able to give birth four months into my stay, which then gave me two whole months to heal from the birth, lose the weight, and stop the bleeding and lactating that followed. I was given the all-clear by Agnar, offered appropriate birth control, and sent back to Asgard. I never once looked back, so to speak.”

Thor ran his hands over his face. He forced himself to his feet, despite the ache to his joints and the burning to his eyes, and – with heavy and slow movements – dragged himself to the fireplace, where he dropped his hands onto its edge. Loki remained still beside him, with his hands held together against the small of his back. The graceful pose seemed at odds with Thor, who braced all his weight on his hands and hunched his back. He turned his head just enough to catch Loki in the corner of his gaze, before his face contorted and he spat out in a low voice:

“Didn’t you feel _anything_ for Magni?”

“I never wanted to be a parent,” sighed Loki. “I never even held him. Helblindi took over when I was about to finally finish the birth, and he was the first to hold Magni. Hell, he even turned his back immediately on lifting Magni . . . I never so much as saw him . . . I had no idea _seidr_ had been cast on him, either. I only knew on his first birthday.”

“Why then? What happened on his birthday?”

“Nothing, except the illusion wasn’t perfect. I was able to feel the lack of ridges, as well as how smooth and warm his skin was to the touch, but I never said a word . . . I think Helblindi kept us apart for so long out of fear I’d want to lay claim to Magni, but I didn’t feel anything on holding him. I felt only what I’d felt for Steinn and Fannar. He was beautiful and I adored him, but he wasn’t _my_ child and I had no desire to take him from Helblindi, even if I could.”

“So you agreed Helblindi would be his father?”

“Thor, Helblindi _adores_ children. He’s wanted to be a father ever since he _was_ a child, enough that he volunteers at the school and regularly visits Ingvar and spends every waking minute with his son and nephews. The problem was that he could never find a mate. If he wasn’t discriminated against for how he looked so Asgardian, he was being used for his status and resources by people with ulterior motives. He also had bad experiences with adoption.

“I believe he tried once, but the child’s biological father appeared with a legitimate claim. He was assumed dead in an accident; with the infrastructure – at the time – bad enough to prevent him from a timely return to the family of his deceased spouse, they had no reason to assume him alive . . . the father returned two weeks before the adoption was to be finalised.”

“I had no idea,” choked Thor.

“Giving that boy back broke Helblindi’s heart. It nearly killed him.”

“I can imagine; I’ve been a father for a few days, but already I would die for Magni.”

“It was a rare fluke, but he had been fostering the child for some months. The intent was to adopt, and the papers were all on the brink of being signed, and then the father miraculously came back from the dead! The trauma means Helblindi refuses to adopt. The fact that he’s a biracial king means that he can’t find a mate. He just resigned himself to never having a child, and lived vicariously through those around him that _could_ have children. He spoiled them rotten.”

Loki turned. He failed to quite meet Thor’s gaze. The light from the fireplace caught at the side of his face, making the blue skin look almost black, and slowly he walked back to the sofa, where he sat at its arm and reclined with his long legs stretched outward. Thor turned to fully face him, as he looked him over from head to toe. A toy soldier sat near his feet. It was squeezed between the cushions of the sofa, with its face painted blue, and Thor walked towards it, where he took it in his hands with a soft smile. Loki quirked his eyebrows on sight of the doll, as he dropped his head against the cushions of the arm, and waved a hand as he muttered:

“It’s why I sometimes think Helblindi planned this.”

“How could _he_ have planned this?”

“He knew I could get pregnant,” said Loki. “He knew that we were in a relationship. I think he also knew that – from sheer maths alone – any conception would result in my being pregnant while on Jotunheim, which meant that it’d be easy for him to intervene and have an instant solution for the problem of a child I couldn’t keep. It’s . . . not something I can prove, though.”

“It’s true we weren’t exactly taught about Jotun physiology,” said Thor. “Father barely knew his body when he took on his true form, enough that he was surprised when ice no longer felt cold to the touch or when he craved for dried meats. The books we have were biased, too, relics of a past when we were at war and before contact was cut between our realms. I mean, it wouldn’t be difficult to take advantage of your ignorance, but do you truly think him capable?”

“I don’t know, Thor. I really don’t. I equally think that maybe _I_ took advantage of _him_ , as I was the one to go to him and suggest that he become the father; I suggested that we both cast illusions on ourselves, I suggested that we both changed our duties to remain within the palace, and I even suggested Agnar attend the birth with no outsider help. It was all me.”

“You both benefited,” spat Thor. “It doesn’t matter who took advantage of whom.”

“I signed official adoption papers, which were sealed away, too. The birth certificate is the official document, and Helblindi is the legal father, but – just in case anyone ever uncovers the issue of DNA and genetics – Helblindi would have a back-up. I covered all bases. If you come forward as the father alone, you would be on the birth certificate with him.”

“What if I go forward about us? I imagine that the birth certificate would be altered, but the adoption papers would trump that considering you forfeited your parental rights. I’d still have to share parental rights with Helblindi, as we’d still both be his legal parents.”

“Exactly, so you gain _nothing_ by dragging me into this, Thor.”

Thor held the toy soldier. The ridges on its face were the same as Byleistr, with the same traditional dress that the guards wore on duty, and – with knitted eyebrows – Thor cast his eyes about the room for the rest of the set, which no doubt bore resemblances to others. Loki simply stared at him, before rolling his eyes and lifting his legs high upward. It was a strange position, but a familiar invitation since childhood, and Thor sat at the foot of the sofa, where the feet were dropped hard into his lap. Thor put the toy aside and massaged Loki’s feet, as he whispered:

“Why didn’t you tell me, Loki?”

“How could I?”

“You knew,” spat Thor. “You _knew_ how much I wanted to be a father! I always dreamt of a son or daughter to spoil like our parents spoiled us, and we must have argued a thousand times over about whether you could be a co-parent or not . . . it’s why we broke up! Why did we even break up if you were pregnant and determined to birth the child? It could have been _our_ child!”

“Look, I didn’t abort _only_ because I saw an out! I saw a man that desperately wanted a child, and I saw that the child would go to a good home, which Magni would _never_ have gotten had we kept him and raised him ‘together’. You realise co-parenting would be impossible, yes?”

“Oh, why is _that_ , Brother Dearest?”

“Thor, the only reason I _didn’t_ abort was because of Helblindi! I thought that it would be a waste to flush this parasite out of me, at least when there was someone out there that _couldn’t_ have a child and could have this one! I thought _some_ good might have come from everything, and I owed Helblindi a great deal for helping me accept myself and atone for my actions. I saw a solution that suited everyone and I ran with that until the finish line.”

Thor tightened his grip on those feet. He took in deep breaths, as his heart raced in his chest, and the familiar beating pounded in his ears, enough to deafen him to all other sound. The adrenaline crept back into his veins . . . his narrowed eyes turned to Loki, who bore an impassive expression . . . Thor let loose a hissed exhale. He closed his eyes, as he fought back the flashes of colour that covered his vision. A gasp escaped Loki. He jerked his feet back, before he sat upright beside Thor and reached down to nurse the soles, and Thor – staring down at his fisted hands – cursed and uttered an apology. He screwed shut his eyes and listened as Loki spat:

“Do you forget that Father was alive?”

“How could I forget?”

“I was pregnant,” choked Loki. “I was pregnant and scared. The _same_ reasons I gave you were why I couldn’t bring myself to come forward . . . I didn’t want to be disowned, I didn’t want to lose my status as Loki Odinson, and I didn’t want to be forced to be a parent. Hell, I spent days just thinking about those things alone, until it hit me . . . the cold reality of the situation . . .

“I was the son of Odin! You were the heir of Odin! This was an illegal and incestuous union, and one that now had concrete evidence . . . no one could deny we’d been fucking like rabbits, not when there was a goddamned _child_ borne from that unholy union! Even if one of us were disowned, it wouldn’t change the fact that we were brothers when the child was conceived, and we couldn’t retroactively apply a disownment status to one or both of us.

“Do you want to know the best option? You would have left Asgard. It would have likely been in secret, with the child you so desire to raise, because to stay would have risked the wrath of Father, who would have exiled you . . . still, maybe if he _had_ exiled you, he would have let you take the child. I imagine you’d have ended up on Midgard. You’d have been alone, as I would _never_ have gone with you . . . not when it’d mean being forced to be father to a child.

“It would have been cruel beyond reason. We’re immortal, Thor, but on other realms -? If you had taken Magni to some other realm, it would only have ended badly . . . how many generations of lovers and children would he have to watch die? How many people would he accidentally kill with his immense strength? How long until the mortals imprisoned or experimented on him?”

“You could have come with us,” whispered Thor. “He’d have exiled you, too.”

“You know that my ambitions are greater than that. If I was to live on Midgard, I’d want to _rule_ Midgard . . . I’m not happy just sitting around in some other culture, just abiding by someone else’s rules and following someone else’s plans. I want to either travel the Nine Realms, seeking out adventure on the way, or I want to remain a royal . . . if not here, then on Jotunheim.”

Loki slid from the sofa. He strode back to the fireplace, with his socked feet padding along with a hypnotic beat, like a soft metronome, and stopped just before the raging cyclone, while the harsh white light caught on the leather lapels of his coat. Thor toyed with his thumb, with his fingernails digging and tugging at the flesh. He kept quiet. The tears threatened to build again, as the cold reality spun around in his mind . . . Loki stood so calm, at complete odds with Thor, whose hand came up to brush away tears from reddened cheeks, as he whispered: 

“You would really have abandoned our child to me?”

“Why not? I did it to Helblindi.”

A broken laugh spilled from his lips. Thor dropped back against the sofa, as he wiped away the last of the tears and blew his nose, and finally his vision cleared, as he raked his eyes over Loki with a slow gaze. Loki turned around. He leaned back against the edge of the fireplace, while he folded his arms across his chest and stared hard at Thor. There was no hint of humour. It stopped the laughter from Thor, who slowly sat upright and asked in a quiet voice:

“So tell me . . . what would have been the ‘worst case’?”

Loki took in a deep breath. He walked about the lounge, where he bent every so often to pick up a stray toy . . . one hidden among the healing stones in the fire, one on the lowest shelf of a bookcase, one on the banister of the balcony . . . they seemed to be placed like a game. Loki counted them as he went, before finally bringing them back to a toy-box. They went inside in a specific pattern and place, as Loki smiled and muttered: ‘ _found them’_. Thor winced.

The game was one between nephew and uncle. It was one Thor vaguely remembered Byleistr playing with Magni, where the boy would hide objects and the man would find them, and two men – with fewer claims – had a stronger connection to Magni than his father. Thor sighed. He patted the sofa next to him. Loki rolled his eyes and returned to sit beside him, but reclined with his usual relaxed and regal position, and his feet fell on Thor’s lap again, where his toes wriggled in a silent request for another massaged. Thor rolled his eyes, as Loki said all-too-cheerfully:

“I personally think you would have been exiled regardless.”

“So what makes the ‘worst case’ the worst case?”

“In the best case, you’d have either ran away or been kicked out.” Loki shook his head. “It would have been punishment for the crime of incest, and I’d have likely been exiled, too. It’s just that I would have gone to Jotunheim and lived there. You’d likely be on Midgard, as I say, either with Magni as your son or with Magni being raised on Asgard as Odin’s heir.”

“We would be equally punished for our shared crime,” said Thor.

“Hmm, but in the _worst case_ – which I consider more likely – I think Father would have struggled to process the news of an incestuous union. He would have assigned blame. The problem is that while he was progressive on some fronts -? He was behind the times on others. I was the one pregnant, so I would be the _ergi_ , and that means that I would be exempt from blame. You – as the ‘male’ partner – would be forced to take full responsibility over the act.”

Thor paused. He kept his hands on Loki’s feet, with the skin cold even through the socks. It was so different to their childhood and adolescence, with a slither of blue peeking out between sock and trouser, but the small intimacy was the same and the brotherly love remained. He pursed his lips into a fine line, as he briefly closed his eyes and thought back to their father . . . Odin often argued that the use of _seidr_ was not ‘womanly’, but only to defend Loki against accusations of _argy_ behaviour . . . he meant well, but the prejudice remained. Loki continued:

“Odin would assume the act of incest beyond reason. Indeed, no one in their right mind would consent to such an act, and – as the receptive partner – they would believe I had no means to dissuade an attacker or prevent an attack. You have to experience arousal to penetrate, so clearly you wanted me and rape against you would be impossible . . . he’d assume _you_ raped _me_. I would have been defending you out of fear or loyalty by ‘lying’ about consent on my part.

“I’d also have no way to _prove_ it was consensual. You could have been thrown into the dungeons, which is something I would have fought with our mother to avoid, and so the likelihood is you would have been exiled to Midgard with your name written out of history, just like Fárbauti and Bestla. Odin would have kept the child as his heir, but this time . . .”

“He would have expected you to raise the child.”

“In the best case scenario, with both of us punished, I could have left Father alone to raise Magni. It would have been different in the worst-case scenario; I would have been the ‘victim’ . . . not only would I have lived with that shame forever, but I’d still be his direct heir, and I’d have been expected to be king once he passed. I’d be tempted to stay for my ambitions, but I’d refuse to have any part of the child’s life, as I wouldn’t have wanted them. I would rather have aborted.”

“The child would have been your heir,” said Thor. “Father would not have allowed you to just cast them aside, and he’d have assumed any distance on your part to be a result of trauma. He’d had tried to force you to form a bond, maybe given you more therapy, and it’d have just made things so much worse for you . . . it would have broken you. I can understand your fear.”

“Indeed, but if I aborted then it would all be for nothing.” Loki winced. “You would have hated me, as you always wanted a child, and you’d have been exiled, too. I’d have the throne, but I’d have lost the brother I always wanted . . . I’d also have to live with the stigma.”

“There’s no shame to being a victim, Loki.”

“Tell that to our people who would have seen me as ‘weak’ and ‘defiled’!”

Loki rolled onto his side. He faced the back of the sofa, with his black locks falling over his cheek, and his face was clearly hidden against the soft fabric, while his feet playfully kicked at Thor to coerce him into continuing the massage. Thor sighed. He turned his head toward the balcony, so as not to look at Loki. The lack of self-worth still lingered . . . Loki would have rather been dead than to be seen as ‘weak’ or ‘worthless’. Thor pressed deep into the soles, as he rolled his thumbs in a way that Loki always appreciated, even as he swallowed back his bile.

“I would have been willing to sacrifice my reputation,” said Thor.

“Yes, but _I_ wasn’t,” answered Loki. “I didn’t want to be exiled at best, and I didn’t want to be forced to see my child around the palace at worst. I didn’t want a choice between being a ‘nobody’ and being a ‘father’, as both were unbearable, and more than that . . . I couldn’t be the one to take _everything_ from you, not again! It was my fault you were exiled the first time around.”

“No, _I_ was the one that chose to march on Jotunheim, and _I_ was the one that chose to disrespect our father and force his hand. You had your sins, but I also had mine, Brother. Still, why take the choice from me? Why would you take my _son_ from me?”

“Because you would have refused to give him away!”

“Of course I would,” spat Thor.

“I couldn’t have this child live a lie, Thor! If they lived with you in exile, they would _never_ have experienced their culture or heritage . . . much like how my Jotun culture was stolen from me. If they lived here while you were exiled and erased from history, they’d live never knowing their true identity or parentage . . . much as our parents lied to me. I could not allow either.”

“You’re lying to him _now_ , Loki. What’s the difference?”

Loki pulled away his feet. He curled in on himself, much like a foetal position. Thor drew in a deep breath, as he reached for the furs on the back of the sofa, and he slowly pulled them own over Loki, before he tucked them around the shivering frame. Thor pressed the back of his hand to the forehead and neck, but there was no change in temperature. He remained standing, while he paced back and forth along the length of the sofa, and Loki continued to hide in on himself, with his hands clutching the blankets tight beneath his chin. Loki shrugged.

“Helblindi plans to tell him the truth,” said Loki.

“When?” Thor asked. “When he’s too old to need his other father any longer?”

“He’s being raised with access to Asgard and Jotunheim. He’ll know that I carried him, but that his real father is Helblindi. Do not forget that he is only _five_. Helblindi thought that there was no reason to tell him the details at this stage, as surrogacy is a hard concept for a child to comprehend, and as you weren’t intended to be a part of his life -? There was no rush.”

“It all sounds perfect, but what about my _right_ to know I have a son? I had a child out there with my genetics, my blood, and a part of my spirit . . . I could have known him and loved him, but you denied me that! He isn’t Helblindi’s son, Loki. He’s _my_ son and you know it!”

“Then I must truly be Loki Laufeyson . . .”

A cold silence fell between them. Loki rolled onto his other side, while his long legs stretched out, and – as he looked to Thor – his red eyes were visibly awash with tears. He clutched at the furs with hands tight, as his chest heaved with barely audible hiccups. Thor buried his hands into his hair. A sharp grip brought a harsh pain to his scalp; tears pricked at his eyes in turn, as he returned to pacing with his head held low, and a painful lump formed in his throat, which nothing would remove. Every muscle ached with tension. Every joint ached as he moved.

“Don’t,” choked Thor. “Don’t twist this!”

Loki sat upright with opened mouth. The light smoothed out the lines about his face, while his curly locks were stuck back from where he rested against the cushions, and it made him look so much more youthful, with streaming tears a rare sight from Loki. Thor laughed though his broken sobs, as he pointed a shaking finger toward him. He looked so much like that night upon the bridge, when the fate of Jotunheim hung in the balance, and when he nearly fell . . .

Thor marched towards the sofa, where he dropped down onto his knees. He reached upward with trembling hands to those soft cheeks, where he cupped them with a gentle touch, even as broken noises spilled from his lips. He struggled to breathe, as his eyes and nose streamed. The callused pad of his thumb stroked along his jawbone. Loki appeared to half-smile, but the expression was lost when Thor’s vision blurred and distorted. They both wept. Loki brushed back a lock of blond hair behind his ear, before he pushed their foreheads together and noses touched.

“ _You’re_ the one that betrayed me,” whispered Thor.

“Oh, _I_ betrayed _you_?” Loki laughed. “How about your emotional affair with Jane? I would never have used the Destroyer if you hadn’t your little tart spreading her legs on sight of you like some mewling quim! How is she these days? Have you been back since our break-up?”

“You know I’m still grieving our relationship! Why would I betray –”

“Let’s face it, the reason you fancied her is simple: _you saw a mother in her_! You saw a potential doting wife that would bear forth your children, and a simple family unit that would be just like we had growing up . . . well, if she weren’t mortal. You’d stand no chance getting Father to accept her into Asgard; he’d rather eat dinner with a goat than the likes of her.”

“Don’t do this, Loki. _Don’t_! I never would have betrayed you like that, and even now I can’t bring myself to be with anyone else, and do you know why -? It’s because I still love you! I will _always_ love you, and one day I’ll move on and love someone else, too, but . . . not now.”

“Thor, we’re . . . we’re getting off-track. It doesn’t matter now, does it? It doesn’t matter about my jealousies with you around women . . . women who could bear your children, women that could give you the children I never wanted . . . what matters is what I’ve done. I’ve betrayed you? Well, what’s new? I committed an act of genocide, after which I lied to you about Father, and then I sent the Destroyer after you, and that was just in the space of _three days_!”

“What point are you trying to make, Brother?”

“Evidently, I’m a traitor that can’t be trusted and would never put you first.”

Thor pulled away. He slowly stood over Loki, who craned his head upward. The red eyes were narrowed into a thin line, but the contortions of the mouth were beyond his control . . . rage and sorrow met into a perfect meld, as Loki pulled the furs about his shoulders. Thor brought his hands before his mouth, as he tented them together and breathed deep. It helped regulate each breath . . . _deep and slow, deep and slow_ . . . every beat of his heart pounded in his ears, as he stopped to face Loki with tears spilling afresh. He forced out in a whisper:

“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”

“Why? Because you think I’d betray you just for kicks?”

“I’m not going to get in an argument with you, Loki!” Thor shouted: “It’s what you want; you’re trying to distract me with a fight, so you won’t have to face the truth . . . this _is_ a betrayal unlike any other! You stole from me my son. You owe me an explanation!”

“ _I saved your life_ ,” screamed Loki. “If anything, you owe me!”

Thor screamed. It broke through the chambers. The doors to the antechamber were thrown open, as guards spilled forward, and it took every ounce of strength to wave his hand and choke out a simple command: _‘leave us’_. The guards paused. The slow breaths quickened, until he started to hyperventilate, and Loki called over his shoulder for them to leave, where at once they rushed back out into the corridor. The doors slammed shut behind them. Loki slowly stood, as he marched before Thor and pushed him hard against his chest. It knocked Thor back a step.

“You could have been executed,” spat Loki.

“Father would never –”

“No, but only as Mother would have _begged_ him.” Loki shook his head. “You would have been thrown into the dungeons or exiled, and I’d have to live knowing the harm done to you! That’s not to mention the harm to _me_ . . . I don’t want people thinking of me as a ‘rape’ victim, I don’t want people judging me for the act of incest . . . I also _cannot_ be a parent. I don’t want that! So no, don’t you dare . . . don’t you _dare_ say that I betrayed you, when all this was for you!”

“If it was _for_ me then you could have _told_ me! I – I could have worked something out, maybe say that a one-night stand left the baby on my doorstep . . . _anything_ . . . even after things were worked out with Helblindi, you could have told me! I could have worked with Helblindi for joint custody or equal parental rights! So yes . . . this was a betrayal. You betrayed me!”

“I can’t do this,” said Loki. “I can’t have this argument. This isn’t about who betrayed whom, but about a little boy that two people have a claim to raise . . . _I’m_ not one of them! Helblindi is listed as the biological carrier, and you can be listed as the other parent. That’s it.”

“So you’re going to wash your hands of everything?”

“I’m leaving the matter of my nephew to you and Helblindi, yes.”

Loki turned his back on Thor. He darted towards the antechamber with a quick pace; Thor reached for his coat to hold him back, but his fingers merely brushed against the warmed leather with only the briefest of touches. Thor dropped to his knees. The cold of the fireplace brought goose-bumps to his flesh, perhaps for the first time, and his head fell into his hands, as he wept quietly with wracked breaths. He barely heard the footsteps as they stopped. 

A few desperate sobs came from the archway. Thor tilted his head and struggled to focus his gaze, but soon the shape of Loki could be seen leaning against the wall, and his arms remained wrapped around himself, as he wept as if in time with Thor. They stood worlds apart. The silence was disturbed only by cries and mutters from the guards outside, and soon someone knocked upon the door, while their mother’s voice called out for one to answer. Thor waved lazily for Loki to leave, and Loki edged towards the doors once more, before he stopped.

“I’ll support you as a brother in matters, Thor,” choked Loki. “I will _not_ come forward as the other father, and I’ll swear to hell and back that Helblindi is the carrier, but if you want to go forward and fight for rights as Magni’s other father -? I’ll support you.”

“You won’t mind people will think that I fucked Helblindi?”

“I would mind more if people thought _we_ broke the law and what would happen.”

Loki bit into his lip, before he called out to their mother. The response was lost on Thor . . . something about not waiting long, something about worrying screams . . . he leaned against the outside wall of the central fireplace, where his head lolled back and forth. Loki walked slowly towards the doors, where he stopped and rested his hand upon the handle. He looked back. Thor closed his eyes and blocked Loki from his sight, while tears fell bitter and salty against his trembling lips, and Loki – with a sniff – forced a smile, as he whispered:

“You will be an excellent father to Magni, Thor.”

“Too bad I never got to find out sooner . . .”


	17. Part 4

“Did you know?”

Frigga winced. The colour drained from her face. A waft of steam carried from the teacup, as her long fingers wrapped around the porcelain, and slowly she dropped the cup onto its saucer, while she leaned back on the _longue chair_. The scent of her perfume drifted across the dressing room, as she stretched out her legs and leaned down to rub cream into the calf. It brought back memories of his childhood, where they would sit and play while she put on her make-up and accessorised her outfit, and – taking a seat beside her – Thor waited for her inevitable response.

“I suspected,” whispered Frigga.

A cold quiet descended about the small room. The large mirror reflected back her image, as it lay against the far wall, and within its glass her saw how she pressed her lips together, while her eyes rapidly blinked with visibly moisture. He waited as she lowered her nightdress back down to her ankles, before she turned onto her side and rested her arms on the cushions. There were thick veins about her feet and wrinkles on the thinned skin. He noticed an age-spot.

The door to the bedroom was opened, but the bed looked immaculate. There was not a single crease to the sheets, nor was a single pillow out of place, and a sweet aroma lingered in the air like incense, much like the one used to purify a place of death. A small pile of blankets and sheets sat at the foot of the _chaise longue_ , while the dressing room bore a richer scent . . . _night sweats, perfumes, pollen, foods, wines . . ._ there were a few stray blonde hairs on the pillow, while a formal dress hung from the door between the two rooms. Thor whispered:

“How long have you known?”

“I suspected Loki was pregnant when he left for Jotunheim,” said Frigga. “There were signs, although so subtle that your father failed to pick up on them. I noticed the mood changes, the weight gain, the nausea that never seemed to end . . . he even craved more Jotun cuisine, as well as shunned the heat and constantly sweated. I was surprised you did _not_ notice.”

“You hardly taught us well about Jotun reproduction!”

“I did not, which was my failure. I assumed that Loki was the receptive partner during your affair, as such – while he as in Asgardian form – neither of you could conceive. I compounded my mistake by assuming Helblindi would have informed the two of you, once the spell was broken and Loki took on his Jotun form, complete with his physiology. I did wrong by you both.

“The fact remains that Loki left pregnant, but returned without a child. I assumed at first that he miscarried, so I forced him to speak to the healers, and – while they increased his therapy sessions – they said that the pregnancy most likely ended with a stillbirth, as it had progressed full-term. It would have been such a trauma, and it would explain why he would not speak to me about matters, as such . . . I left him alone, believing he needed space.”

Frigga sighed, as she looked beyond the _chaise longue_. The bedroom was as Thor remembered, complete with Odin’s nightshirt folded neatly beside his bed, and the glass for his medicine was filled with murky and cloudy water on the bedside table. Thor winced. He stood and walked to the doors, where he gently pulled them closed with a soft click. The formal dress was lifted along with its satin hanger, as he placed it instead against the built-in closet, and came back around to the pile of blankets. He waited for her to finally speak again, as she whispered:

“It was a year later that I suspected the truth.”

Thor tensed. He flared his nostrils, as a low hiss of breath escaped him. He reached down for a blanket and shook it out, before he draped it over her form, and gently tucked it in at the sides, much as she had done for him in the past. A smile crept over her features, as she pulled her blonde hair loose and dropped various pins and bands onto a side-table, and she sat half-upright to take an adjacent brush. It ran through her hair with its soft bristles. Thor returned to his seat, as she finished, and gnawed at the inside of his cheek, before spitting out:

“What made you so suspicious?”

“Helblindi announced the arrival of his child,” said Frigga. “It was common knowledge on Jotunheim, but a mere rumour between the other realms. The child was born exactly to the time when Loki would have miscarried. It was also odd that the other father would have been Jotun, as it was said that Magni still bore strong Asgardian features, like his hair and eyes . . .

“You bore no Jotun features, merely as I was a full-blooded Asgardian. The spell on Odin affected him on a physiological level, but it could not alter his DNA or the blood that he would pass onto his children . . . it is why you are impervious to the cold, why you could potentially conceive a child, and why you are so much taller and muscular than other Asgardians. I expected Magni would be said to be more like Laufey or Byleistr in appearance.

“Unfortunately, I could not broach the subject. I was afraid that your father would react . . . well . . . _badly_. If he put two and two together, there would have been hell to pay! He would have been forced to exile one or both of you, but – more than that – he would have fought to retrieve Magni from Jotunheim. It could have provoked a war unlike any that came before.”

“And the other realms would have sided with Jotunheim.”

“After our act of genocide? Yes. We would have lost the war, no question.”

Frigga dropped the hairbrush onto the table. Thor dropped his face into his hands, while he pressed his thumbs against his eyes, and slow and deep breaths were forced from his mouth, as he slowly counted to ten in his mind. The blankets rustled, as she slid back down into a sleeping position. A light was turned off in the lounge beyond. The servants came in the darkness to the bright dressing room, where they nodded their goodbyes and swiftly left, and Thor waited until the main doors clicked closed, before he asked in a hissed breath:

“Why didn’t you tell _me_?”

“How could I, Thor?” Frigga shook her head. “I could not say for certain my suspicions were correct. It was possible that there was a stillborn birth, one that coincided with a pregnancy of Helblindi, and even if I were right . . . it would risk harm to my sons, as well as harm to my realm, and I could not risk exile and war. I only knew for certain when you confronted Loki.”

“Ah, _Loki_ ,” spat Thor. “Do you know what I hate most about this situation? It’s that I don’t hate him. I feel . . . I feel I want nothing to do with him, and that I might never forgive him, but I still love him and I hate that! How can I still love someone who so betrayed me?”

“Emotions cannot be turned on and off on a whim, Thor.”

“But surely the bad outweighs any good?”

He threw himself back in the chair. The light above was all the brighter with the darkness outside, and he tilted back his head to stare upward, until the lights left painful afterimages about his vision. He sighed and stood to turn down the lights, while lighting the candles about the main dressing table. The light created an eerie glow about the mirror. It was like a portal into a while other world, with the rising and lowering chest of Frigga’s reflection appearing almost alive, and perhaps – in this small room – it felt like she no longer slept alone.

“Thor, you are still brothers,” said Frigga. “This is a betrayal unlike any other, but he is still the small boy that fought with you and fought alongside you . . . you trained together, were taught together, and lived together. There are innumerable good memories, Thor. I beg that you do not let this one betrayal ruin a millennium spent at each other’s side as loyal companions.”

“He _lied_ to me, Mother. He _stole_ from me five years of my son’s life!”

“In every relationship there are ups and downs, my son. You are still brothers, even if you are not lovers, and you cannot avoid that reality! Will you avoid him always? What of state dinners, or weddings of friends, or other events that will require the presence of you both?”

“I think that a problem for another day. I _understand_ that he sought to protect me, just that I understand that he wanted to protect himself, but relationships cannot be based on lies . . . even among brothers, there must be trust. If I can’t trust him, how can I confide in him? If I can’t confide in him, how can we go back to being brothers and friends?”

“I beg you to at least _try_ and make amends with him . . .”

“It’s funny,” said Thor. “Loki always thought I was Father’s favourite, but – in reality – the truth is that Loki was always _your_ favourite . . . why aren’t you asking _him_ to amends with me? Why am _I_ the one to put in all the effort to reconcile, when he was the one to break us apart?”

Thor paced the length of the doorway. The basin in the far corner was filled with crystal clear waters, where he so often saw her stand above with a smile, and so many hours were spent whittled away contacting Loki in Jotunheim . . . not one spent on his exile to Asgard. He marched towards the basin. He slammed his hand though the waters. They splashed against the wall and struck against the mirror, where droplets slid down the glass like tears, and he threw himself back against the doorframe, before he wrung his hands before him.

“I’ll try to make amends with Loki, but when _I’m_ ready.” Thor sighed. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive him, but I want to forgive him . . . I certainly don’t hate him. I know he was put into a tough situation, Mother, but the fact remains that I had a right to know! If he couldn’t tell me at the time, why couldn’t he tell me after the fact? It could have worked.”

“I imagine he was scared to tell you,” whispered Frigga.

“I could have claimed to have bedded Helblindi, and we could have raised Magni together, while Loki remained his uncle. I could have maybe taken the child as mine, claiming that some one-night stand left him at my door. He could have been _my_ son! Instead . . .”

Thor threw his hands above. The fell with a bang at his sides. There was little reaction from Frigga, who simply slid a little more upright into a half-sitting position, and clasped her hand over the blankets, while her expression darkened. The lines about her face deepened, while the tears pricked at the corners of her eyes once more. He turned away his gaze. Thor walked back to the doorway to the lounge, where he leaned against the frames, and crossed his arms over his chest, as he forced slow and deep breaths to still his racing heart. He spat out:

“Loki could have told me after Father died.”

A low sigh escaped Frigga. The sheets rustled, as she swung her legs around. Thor turned his gaze toward her struggling frame, while he forced herself to sit upright, and her bare feet pressed themselves to the cool tiles. Frigga clutched the blankets against her chest, as she shivered a little with the draught that blew from the balconies about the various rooms. The thin material of the nightdress did little to protect her from the cold, and goose-bumps broke over her arms where the sleeves slipped to reveal the skin beneath. Frigga asked through tears in a low voice:

“How long has it been since he died, Thor?”

“What does it matter?”

“You were enduring a great trauma,” said Frigga. “When would you have Loki tell you? Would he have told you while you cried at his bedside, while you said goodbye at the funeral, or maybe when you stood before the memorial stone with tears in your eyes? I expect Loki would have told you in his time, and I am honestly appalled Byleistr took matters into his own hands.”

“Byleistr did what was best for everyone involved.”

“Thor, this could have waited even just a _week_ to better process your grief.”

“A week is a long time to a child! If Father sent me away for five years, would you have been so understanding about his choice? If he said to wait one more week for my return, wouldn’t you have done all that you could to get me back _immediately_? Byleistr did what was right.”

“He had you find out in the immediate aftermath of Odin’s death! Not only that, but how long since you and Loki have ended your liaison? I would have expected some compassion . . . one man can only endure so much, but now you have another trauma on top of your break-up and grief. I know you think Odin was the one obstacle, but his death proved another.”

A low laugh echoed about the rooms. Thor tossed back his head, as he ran his hands over face and hair, and tears pricked at his eyes enough to distort his vision, while he turned to face Frigga with a trembling hand raised high in a warning gesture. He closed his eyes, before he drew in a hissed breath. The smile on his lips was broken. Frigga remained seated, even as her mouth opened as if with a plea or chastisement, but – whatever the direction of her words – he pre-empted her with a cold and slow statement of fact. He left no room for argument:

“I’m going to ask that Helblindi name me on the birth certificate.”

Frigga shifted, while her hands fell lower. The drop to her head cast it in shadow, so that her expression could barely be seen in the darkness, but the nightdress fell in such a way to swamp her in excess material, and – for the first time – Thor noted the thinness to her frame. He stepped towards her with a wince, but it was her turn to lift her hand. He stopped. The smile returned to Frigga, as she awkwardly slid back into a reclining position, and pulled the blankets and sheets back above her chest, as she turned her head to face him. A small tear rolled down her cheek.

“Are you sure, Thor?”

“I can’t deny Helblindi’s parentage,” said Thor. “If I fight him on the fact he’s listed as a biological father, he’s still airtight adoption papers from Loki as back-up, and the legal mess would take _years_ to clear up. He’d likely keep his rights, so it’d only postpone the inevitable; I’d be listed as a co-parent and biological parent, but it’d deny me more years with Magni.”

“You don’t want full custody? I assumed you would.”

“In an ideal world, but Magni has known no other father. It would be cruel to him to tear him apart from his father, his culture, his _world_ . . . no . . . I also couldn’t do that to Helblindi. I know all too well this pain at being apart from Magni, and I’ve only know the truth a few days, so what would Helblindi feel after five years spent at Magni’s side? This is the best compromise.

“I refuse to give up my right to my son, though. If Helblindi refuses to quietly give me the rights I deserve, I will openly come forward as having once bedded him, and I will demand a paternity test to force his hand and allow me joint custody. We can work out the details of how we will raise Magni, whether he shall be my heir or not, and so forth . . . just like any other two parents that created a child under difficult circumstances. We will make do.”

Frigga turned her head toward Thor. He stood tall, while he looked back to the bedroom doors . . . _last rites given over a half-conscious man, grey hair sprawled about over soft pillows, and the final whispered words: ‘I love you, my sons’_ . . . a faint smile broke across his features, although it failed to reach his watering eyes. Frigga reached out a hand toward him. He strode across the dressing room and took it in a firm hold, while she pulled closer to press a chaste kiss to the backs of his knuckles, before letting go to ask in a soft voice that bordered on a whisper:

“What if Helblindi fails to agree?”

“If I take Magni from him, he will wage war.” Thor sighed. “If he tries to take Magni from me, I will wage war. In either case, neither of us stands to gain anything from selfishly trying to keep him for ourselves . . . I think he will see commonsense. I will not abandon my boy like Bestla, Laufey, or even Loki . . . the cycle of abandonment ends here. It ends today.”

“You are a good man, Thor. I just ask that you take this slowly, as you consider both the feelings of Loki and Helblindi . . . I love you, and I wish for you to be happy, but you will gain nothing with angry demands. You have grown so much. Remember what you have learned.”

“With all due respect, I would take not your advice right now.”

“Thor? You know that I love you, dearly.”

Thor lifted her hand and kissed it in turn. He gently lowered it back to the blankets, before he walked back to the doorway with heavy steps, and the breeze came in through the balcony caught at his blond locks, blowing them subtly about his cheek. Thor blew out the candles on his departure, all save for one that rested in a handheld candle holder, which he used to guide his way to the doorway. The light flickered with his movements, casting dancing shadows about his face, and he stopped with his back to the breeze, as he turned to face her with a sad smile. 

“It’s as Loki said, sometimes love isn’t enough,” said Thor. “I know you mean well, but you manipulate just as Loki manipulates and you lie just as Loki lies. I want to listen to the voice of my father, and he says not to make his mistakes . . . he says not to give up on my son.”

“What will you do now, my son?”

“I’m going to talk to Helblindi tomorrow,” said Thor. “I love you, Mother. I love Loki, too. I just need time away from you both to process events and reconsider our relationships, and I need time to learn how to forgive . . . in the meantime, Magni is my priority. I must go fight for him.”

“I understand, Thor. You do what you must.”

“ _Do_ you understand? Or do you just say that to keep the peace?”

He did not wait for a response. He walked towards the main doors. The cool breeze soon blew out his candle, as speed and wind combined against him, and he slammed the holder onto a small side-table, as he pulled open the doors with a violent throw. They slammed shut behind him with a bang, as he made his way back to his rooms. He pressed a hand to his temple, as fatigue coursed through every vein and muscle, and – as he marched – he only knew one thing:

Magni needed both fathers.


	18. Part 4

Thor threw open the doors. The lounge was filled with various suitcases, with clothes and objects and souvenirs in total disarray, and every step was carefully navigated, as he sought to avoid the ‘organised chaos’ that he once thought belonged only to Loki. A white light cast long shadows, as it emanated from the central fireplace that bore the familiar cyclone of snow. The temperatures were almost arctic. The doorways between bedrooms and lounge were wide open, enough that Thor could see inside each one as he marched past with swift steps.

Byleistr stood beside a king-sized bed, but every inch was strewn with possessions. He failed to so much as lift his head as Thor strode past, and his hands busied themselves with sorting toys into two piles: one for each child. In the second room, Helblindi stood before a mirror. The bedroom was spotless . . . not one item out of place, not one speck of dust . . . he flared his nostrils, as he glared at Thor in the reflection. Thor darted back into the lounge.

“Magni,” cried Thor. “ _Magni_!”

He stopped close to a sofa. The various messes were mostly comprised of Jotun attire, as well as items clearly designed to be taken back as souvenirs and gifts, and there was a notable absence of textbooks or games or children’s apparel. Thor ran his hands over his face. He fought to slow his breaths, while he tented his fingers before his mouth. Byleistr stepped out into the lounge, while he placed both hands on his hips, and he looked Thor over with a stern gaze. Thor spat out:

“Where’s my son?”

The fire slowed and warmed, as Helblindi entered the lounge. He was dressed in a Jotun tunic, which barely covered the most vital areas, and Thor snapped his eyes away from exposed thighs with a blush, as he folded his arms across his chest. He paced the length of the sofa. The quickening of his heartbeat drowned out all other sounds, and his fists clenched and unclenched with every breath. Helblindi walked around the lounge. He leaned against the fireplace, whose slowed cyclone barely sent out a mild chill, and he spat at Thor with a cold voice:

“ _Your_ son? I think you are mistaken, Thor.”

“Do not test me, Helblindi!”

“You have no right to storm in here and make demands! You’re not the only king here; I have only ever been courteous and accommodating to you and your people, and it was thanks to _my_ political skills that we were able to fend off further war and improve both realms. I have been a good father to Magni; I raised him, nurtured him, and loved him, but still you want to barge in here and try to steal from me my son – a Jotun prince – just like your father before you?”

“Do not _dare_ to mention my father! The bed in which he once slept is barely cold, but still you would insult his person and criticise his actions? He was an excellent father to Loki, and not once – _not once_ – did he ever refer to Loki as anything other than his son. We were treated the same and raised the same. Odin Borson was Loki’s father, not Laufey. _Odin_.”

“Oh? Good. In that case, you must admit I’m Magni’s father.”

“Aye, but that doesn’t mean that Laufey also had no right to a claim.” Thor scoffed. “You once said that Laufey put Loki in that temple to keep safe, and that he forever grieved the son he lost, one _stolen_ – your own words – by Odin Allfather. He had no recourse; his realm was decimated, his means of transport eradicated, and his troops halved in numbers. How many nights did he cry for the son he lost? Why would you then commit that same atrocity on me in turn?”

Helblindi winced. He folded his arms. The ensuing silence was broken only by the low hum from the cyclone, as well as the flapping sound of a paper fan, as Byleistr leaned against the doorway between lounge and guest-room with a visible sweat. He watched them both with the silent surveillance of one trained to guard and protect. He stood at the side as a soldier. Thor ran his hands through his hair, before he forced a long breath, and – turning to face Helblindi – he brought a hand to his heart, where he held it pressed against the metal of his chest-plate.

“We are _both_ his fathers,” choked Thor.

“I won’t concede that point until I know my son won’t be stolen from me.” Helblindi blinked back tears. “I’ve left him with Loki for now; I know that Loki would never let Magni be taken by force, and would have the means to return him to Jotunheim should worst come to worst. I feel that any discussion on your parental rights _must_ start with an acknowledgement of mine.”

“What about my rights? Why are they so contingent on yours?”

“Because you never had a claim on him in the first place!”

A low growl fell from Thor. It was primal and guttural, before it turned into something akin to a scream, and – as adrenaline coursed through every vein – his hand lifted into a pointing gesture. He lunged forward with eyes locked upon Helblindi. A sweat broke on his skin. A spark of colour dashed about his vision. The other hand gesticulated wildly, as he sought to express some emotion that words and sounds failed to articulate. He barely made it half the distance to him.

Byleistr moved with an uncanny speed. He stood between them with his intimidating height and bulk, and the rough calluses of his hand slammed hard against Thor. It was enough force to knock the wind from lungs, forcing Thor back a few steps, and Byleistr stared down with red eyes mere slits on the blue skin of his face. Thor opened his mouth wide. Byleistr raised a finger, much like a parent warning a child to silence, and – with a slow nod of acknowledgment – turned to Helblindi and pointed the finger in his direction. He said in a patient voice:

“You know that Thor had rights, Brother.”

Helblindi fell silent.

“Even if Loki gave up his claim, Thor never gave up _his_ claim.” Byleistr sighed. “You were the legal father the second in which Loki handed over his rights, but you were never guaranteed full and exclusive custody . . . not unless Thor was to relinquish his claim in turn.”

A tear pricked at the corner of his green eyes. Helblindi cast his gaze between them, while the moisture caused the colour to fracture into various shades, and Thor caught sight of two freckles in the iris of the right eye, which were quickly hidden when Helblindi rapidly blinked. A broken sigh fell from his lips, as he walked towards the sofa and took a seat. He perched at the very edge of the cushion, with his knees pressed together, and reached out to pat the cushion of the armchair to his side. Byleistr stepped back, as he allowed Thor to take a seat in turn.

“Do you want to talk?” Helblindi asked.

“I wouldn’t be here else,” said Thor.

“No, I mean _really_ talk.” Helblindi flinched. “I am open to a dialogue, in which we discuss our rights and motivations and how best to resolve matters, but I am not – I repeat: _not_ – open to demands that I relinquish my rights. If this is to be an argument on who exclusively gets Magni -? No, I won’t even entertain that. I will talk, but I won’t barter or bargain over my son.”

“You may not believe me, but I don’t wish to steal Magni, Helblindi. I see how much you love him, and I see how much he loves you, and if I’m to be a father to my –.” Thor shook his head. “If I’m to be a father to _our_ son, it means I must put his needs first, and what he needs is _you_.”

“I . . . I appreciate that, but you can understand my scepticism.”

“Aye, I would think less of you should you take my words at face value,” teased Thor. “We both know the nature of politics, and that lies and manipulations are often necessary to achieve one’s end, especially when it comes to one’s word and loopholes and fine print. Hell, our family is so dysfunctional that it would be strange for you to trust at all, let alone so easily.”

“Hmm, Fárbauti and Odin were abandoned by their parents, Loki was stolen by his uncle, and our fathers warred for centuries with no regard to the other realm that helped create their sons, all while fostering our internalised racism and self-hatred. It was enough to drive Loki to breaking point, and I think we can both agree that we should learn from their mistakes. It’s easier said than done, though, isn’t it? This is many millennia of history and grievances.”

“True, between our realms and families. Not us. I can understand that you would be somewhat sceptical of my intentions, and your ability to consider all possibilities is what makes you a good king, but it is very different to prepare for any potential cruelty than to _expect_ such cruel acts. I have given you no cause to think I would steal Magni, have I? If I have, I apologise.”

The muscles lost their tension, as Helblindi slid back on the sofa. He carefully folded his legs, although the shorts beneath the tunic preserved his modesty, but the hem moved upward with the movement and exposed the underneath of his hamstring. Thor blushed. He leaned back in the armchair, while he cast his gaze back to the fireplace, and Byleistr stood so close that the _seidr_ barrier was pressed to his back, but still it did little to fend off the sweat to his skin. Helblindi leaned casually towards Thor, before he stretched out his legs along the cushions.

“No, I apologise,” said Helblindi. “I ask you to understand that Magni is my life. It isn’t so much that I assumed you a monster that would steal him away in the night, but more that I’ve _seen_ the effects of kidnapping and abandonment first-hand. Everyone talks about how our father lost his son, or Loki lost his father, but no one ever talks about how _we_ lost our brother!”

“I . . . I suppose that never occurred to me.”

“No, it’s strange how it never occurs to most people. I remember that pain, though, and I remember each birthday of Loki’s . . . wondering how he might look, whether he would be like us, _praying_ that he was happy . . . I couldn’t go through that again, especially with a son.”

The tears pricked again at those green eyes. He brushed them back, but there was a tremble to his hands that made it difficult to catch each tear that fell, and soon the trails down his cheeks were smeared and irregular. Thor reached towards Helblindi, but Byleistr threw up a hand. The meaning was simple: _‘no’_. He pulled back his arm, but slumped forward and waited for that usual smile to break across those pale cheeks, and soon Helblindi cast his gaze towards a family portrait that lay on the far wall, featuring Magni in throes of laughter. Helblindi whispered:

“I never thought I’d _have_ a son, truth be told.”

The portrait was unusual for Asgardian standards . . . more candid, more natural . . . there was a spark to Magni’s eyes that spoke of a love for life, and he was wrapped up in Helblindi’s arms, who delivered kissed to his cheeks. Byleistr and Agnar stood on either side of them, while Fannar and Steinn stood on opposite sides of the frame; Fannar with the pout of a teenager, and Steinn with a stuck-out tongue, as he pulled faces at his older brother. Thor smiled, but the smile faded as his eyes fell back to Magni held by only one father. He winced and asked:

“Is this why you accepted my relationship with Loki?”

“Oh? What do you mean?”

“I mean that most people would be horrified at the act of incest,” said Thor. “We knew that our father would disown us for our actions, and it took our mother centuries to come to terms with what she suspected, while Byleistr still curls his lip at the very mention. Did you allow our union simply as you knew we would be unable to both lay claim to any child conceived?”

“I hope you wouldn’t think so lowly of me,” replied Helblindi. “It’s not so much that you’d think me capable of such manipulations, but the fact you’d think I’d rely on a plan with _so_ many bases uncovered. What if you were the receptive partner? What if Loki learned well about our physiology enough to take precautions? What if he changed his mind on wanting a child? I wish that I did have the omnipotence of which you believe me capable, but I know my limitations.”

“You could have covered those bases,” muttered Thor.

“I _could_ , but isn’t it more likely that you’re looking for someone to blame? We have a saying on Jotunheim: ‘the simplest explanation is often most likely’. I shan’t be held responsible over Loki’s actions, simply because I’m an easier target, and – even if what you say were true – what good would such an admission do at this point in time? The damage is done: we have a son. We need to work out a way to co-parent and protect _both_ our rights.”

“Oh, _now_ you want to talk about rights? You seemed determined to keep him to yourself for the past five years, and your past actions make it clear your preference is sole custody! I understand you’re on the birth certificate as the birth father, and I understand you have adoption papers just in case, and it’s just like you to have everything covered, but . . . I still have _rights_!”

“Yes, isn’t that what I said?” Helblindi sighed. “It’s only natural that I’d want to keep Magni to myself, and were it up to me then you still wouldn’t know . . . it’s why I kept you away from him all these years. I thought that you might take him from me, in which case I would have my worst fears realised and would be forced to war for my rights, and even if I kept him and you fought legally instead of by force, it could have gotten messy . . . _public_. What would that do to Magni?”

“He would have only been a babe. He wouldn’t have been aware enough to –”

“I lost a child once, Thor . . . one I sought to adopt . . .”

Helblindi turned. It brought his back to the arm of the sofa, while his legs came upward, and the half-reclined position led him to face away from Thor, so that only his long black hung over the sofa in a thick plaint, entwined with long slithers of silver peeking out in various strategic places from top to bottom. Thor looked to Byleistr. Byleistr winced. A silence fell between them, but a soft jerk of those shoulders spoke of a barely hidden sob, and it was followed by a staggered sigh, before Helblindi rolled back on his side and forced a smile that failed to reach his eyes.

“I have rights as his biological father,” said Thor.

“You do.” Helblindi sighed.

“They don’t start now. They started when Magni was born.”

Thor stood. He moved about the room, where he picked up items as he walked. The tedious gesture of tidying up passed the seconds, as he folded items of clothing and piled them at the foot of the sofa, and Byleistr muttered apologies about the mess made packing for departure. Thor stopped when he found a toy soldier. He bent down to take it in hand, and ran the pad of his thumb across the painted blue face, until the adrenaline coursed again. He gripped until his knuckles turned white. He fought back panted breaths, before throwing the toy down.

“I can’t go back and undo time,” said Helblindi.

“No, but will you even _apologise_ for having stolen my son?” Thor laughed. “You speak of how awful it was to lose your brother, your adoptive son, and a connection to your culture, but somehow it’s okay to take from me my own blood? You are nought but a hypocrite!”

“The difference is that you could never miss what you never had!”

“What kind of bullshit excuse is that from one so smart?”

“ _Enough_ ,” bellowed Byleistr. “Both of you!”

The loud cries silenced both men. Byleistr marched towards Thor, before he grabbed a broad shoulder with a firm grip, and the sheer pressure sent a white-hot pain through every nerve, as Thor choked out a continuous stream of _‘ow, ow, ow’_. He tripped over his feet, as Byleistr dragged him towards the foot of the sofa and threw him down. The pile of clothes upturned onto the floor. They fell about his feet. The sofa jerked backward with the force of the blow, enough that there was a risk it might upturn, but Byleistr slammed his foot onto the cushion.

It was enough to keep the sofa upright, even as it jolted Thor forward. He caught himself and sat with hands pressed onto the edge of the cushion, before he cast a quick gaze to his side, and Helblindi – with a loud exhale – slowly swung around his legs, until feet pressed against the carpet, protecting his modesty once more. Byleistr stood between them, as they both sat side-by-side with various pouts and sighs, before he pointed to Thor and spat out:

“You two need to focus on what you have in common: _your son_!”

“He started it by –”

“Well, I’m finishing it!” Byleistr threw up a hand. “I have teenagers at home, Thor, I’m _not_ going to deal with the childishness of two alleged adults on top of that. You both have brothers, but somehow you never learned to share or communicate? You are arguing around in circles, and contradicting yourselves in the process. It’s getting us nowhere fast.”

“Exactly,” said Helblindi.

“No, don’t pretend you have the moral high ground, Brother. You owe Thor an apology; I understand that you came from a place of fear, having lost a child and brother before, but you denied him something he always wanted and you denied him his fundamental rights. I understand what you did, so does Thor, but it doesn’t make it okay.

“Then there’s _you_.” Byleistr turned back to Thor. “You have a right to be angry, but you must realise that Helblindi kept this secret out of fear and not maliciousness. You can keep rehashing the past, arguing about blame, or you can move forward . . . if you want to come to some sort of arrangement about Magni, that means putting aside personally differences. You both love Magni. You both want what’s best for Magni. You have more in common than not.”

Thor cast a look to Helblindi. Helblindi looked away with a blush, before waving a hand in manner that could have been a sign of acknowledgement or dismissal, but soon turned to face Thor in a direct manner, as he sat awkwardly on the sofa. He kept one leg raised, while a hand dropped onto his lap, and he rested his other arm along the back of the sofa. Thor followed suit, as he turned and sat cross-legged on the sofa. He cast a look to Byleistr. It was darkened stare with a narrowed gaze, but matched in intensity until he returned back to Helblindi.

“I _need_ to know,” said Thor. “Why wasn’t I consulted?”

“You mean about Loki’s transference of rights?” Helblindi sighed. “Officially, I never knew the paternal identity of Magni’s biological father . . . it meant the situation had to be treated as if Magni were born to a single parent, which meant that there was no other parent to consider. I will admit that _ethically_ , you had a right to know, but _legally_ I was exempt.”

“You should have told me, Helblindi. I should have known.”

“Yes, Thor. I should have told you . . . I’m sorry, okay? If I’d have known then that you’d be so amenable to joint custody, I would have approached you sooner, but I was scared. It’s not easy for me to admit, but I was _scared_. I acted how I thought was best . . . I was wrong. I apologise.”

Helblindi clenched his jaw, while he narrowed his eyes. The words were sincere, but spoken from a man that had likely never apologised in his life, and there was a vulnerability that was hard to miss, as Helblindi squirmed a little in his seat. Thor pursed and pulled at his lips, while he scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck. Byleistr sighed. He returned back to the fireplace, where he pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered in the Jotun tongue, and Thor lowered his head and shrugged, before he locked eyes with Helblindi.

“Thank you,” muttered Thor.

A low hum fell from Helblindi. The smile reached his eyes, as the green sparkled without a single tear, and he waved a hand again, but this time with more flair. He nodded to Thor. Thor nodded back. The low groan from Byleistr spoke volumes, as he slid down the fireplace and dropped with a thud to the floor, and – with rough hands – he wiped away the sweat from his brow, while the cyclone within the fireplace increased in ferocity and sent out an icy blast. Thor reached out to nudge Helblindi’s arm playfully with his fist, before he smiled back.

“I apologise if I scared you in turn,” said Thor. “It was a shock that shook me to my core, and I was terrified in turn that you would try to steal Magni or refuse me access. I never thought I’d co-parent with someone other than Loki . . . I never thought that we’d be apart, even if that perhaps meant being childless as a result, but if I have to co-parent with anyone -?”

“There are worse people to co-parent with,” sighed Helblindi.

“Well, assuming we can learn to talk without Byleistr always as a mediator.”

“That _will_ be the true test of whether this can work.” Helblindi shook his head. “Thor, I’ve always lived life somewhat isolated and alone, and I’ve been somewhat spoiled by my position as a politician and spokesperson for our people. I’ve also been the sole provider for Magni, without having any input from others. I decided his education, friendship circle, diet, routine, excursions . . . it won’t be easy to compromise as a man that has never compromised.”

“Hmm, even in politics, you never compromised,” laughed Thor. “My father always warned me to be careful of you, especially when I became king after his death. He said you were the master of contriving coincidences and manipulating rhetoric, and any ‘sacrifice’ on your part was often something prearranged or that meant little to you in the first place. You never compromised, but merely _seemed_ to compromise. Do you think Magni could teach you to compromise over time?”

“I suppose anything is possible, and I would do anything for my son.”

“ _Our_ son,” said Thor. “I want my name on the birth certificate.”

“Oh, fine. I would ask that we postpone an official announcement by a few months, however, as I need time to consider how best to spin our ‘union’ to my people. I planned to eventually hand the crown to Byleistr, but not quite yet, and our people take issue with my Asgardian appearance at the best of times, let alone when now I have white skin and an Asgardian ‘lover’.”

Thor rolled his eyes. He looked Helblindi over from head to toe, before looking over to Byleistr, who – throwing a hand in a gesture that said ‘I’m done’ – rolled onto his feet and climbed to his feet, as he made his way back to his bedroom. The rustling of clothes and slam of items filled the lounge, as he continued to pack the various suitcases and boxes for their return. Helblindi rolled his eyes in turn, before he shrugged and lifted his hands, and whispered: ‘ _brothers’_. Thor laughed. He shook his head and stretched out on the sofa, while he gazed into the cyclone.

“You could do worse than me,” teased Thor.

“I could do a lot better, too,” chuckled Helblindi. “Okay, well . . . shall we say that we spend six months on Jotunheim as a family, and six months on Asgard, much like our deal with Loki? I think that would be best. It means neither of us would have to be apart from Magni, while still allowing us to rule with Byleistr and Loki supporting us in our absences.

“Indeed, it could be beneficial. It would allow my people to get used to seeing Byleistr as the face of our people, the mediator of disputes, and the decision-maker for our realm. If we do this for three or four years, maybe extending our time on Asgard each year, it would perfectly time with my abdication and Byleistr’s coronation. I could move with Magni at that point, so we would reside permanently within Asgard. I would expect periodic visits to Jotunheim, though.”

“You thought of all that on a mere whim?”

“I am either very good at thinking on the spot, or I had such plans beforehand and manipulated the conversation into this exact destination, and – while both are testaments to my intelligence – only one is insulting to my character. I’ll let you interpret matters as you see fit, but I’ll just say that we still have a lot to work out. It’s not enough to just be physically close to Magni, but we must be in tandem on how to raise him and how to communicate with one another.”

Thor nodded. He slapped his hands on his thighs, before – with a sigh – swinging his legs onto the floor, and standing upright with a crick of his neck, as he stretched of his limbs. Helblindi reclined, while pulling down a blanket to cover his lower body, and sat upright with plumped pillows behind his back. They remained in silence, while they shared a long look. Thor turned away. The family portrait remained fixed on the wall, where Magni laughed eternally from the painted canvas, and the smile faded from Thor, as he turned back to Helblindi.

“Will you stay here this week?” Thor asked. “We can talk about the basics. I’ll go with you to Jotunheim under some pretence or other, where we can work out the details, and then we can make a formal announcement to our realms. There is one pressing matter, though, which I really would like to address immediately and without any delays, Helblindi.”

“Ah, you wish to properly be introduced to Magni.”

“Yes, but I would also like for him to be told about his heritage. I want Loki to be present, as he’s the one that birthed Magni, and we can explain that Loki may have acted as a surrogate, but that _we_ are his parents and Loki is merely his uncle. I don’t want him to live a lie, not like Loki and I were forced to live a lie, and if we’re all together . . . if we tell him together . . . we can teach him that he can trust us and we’ll never keep secrets from him.”

“I never expected to keep things secret from him, Thor, but he’s only _five_.”

“You were going to tell him, anyway. That’s what Loki said.”

Helblindi sighed. He closed his eyes, as he slid further down the sofa. The way he laid down spoke of one on the verge of sleep, and his arm was thrown up over his head, while he rolled his head and hummed a low and noncommittal sound. Thor gritted his teeth. He pinched at the bridge of his nose, while Helblindi made an obvious show of ‘sleep’, and Thor cast his gaze to Byleistr, who pointed towards the door without even looking in his direction. Thor stayed firmly fixed in place, until – after a couple of minutes – Helblindi opened his eyes again.

“Not tonight, Thor,” said Helblindi.

“Does this act ever work?” Thor pointed a finger along his body. “It may be enough to intimidate servants into leaving you alone, or for Byleistr to humour you by departing, but you can’t get rid of me that easily . . . you will agree to tell Magni with me tomorrow.”

“I will? What is my incentive to prioritise tomorrow?”

“I live in these palaces, Helblindi. I can easily wait here all night.”

Helblindi sat upright. He quirked an eyebrow, as he stared hard at Thor. The cyclone whirled from the fireplace, while the cold air circulated the lounge and bedrooms, and Thor shifted his weight from foot to foot, until the smile returned to Helblindi. He dropped back onto the sofa, before he wafted Thor away with gentle laughter. Thor fisted his hands, as he closed his eyes and counted to ten, and finally – as he reopened them – Helblindi offered forth an answer:

“Tomorrow. We can tell him tomorrow.”


	19. Part 4

“Magni,” whispered Thor.

A warm smile brought lines to his cheeks. The lounge was warmed to Asgardian temperatures, with the fireplace alive with flickering flames, and it cast long shadows about the large room, as Thor slowly stood with his gaze fixed on the doors. Helblindi gently placed a soft hand on his wrist, with enough pressure to keep him in place, and – as Thor let loose a long sigh – he turned his head back to Helblindi, who squinted his eyes in a silent pleading expression.

The doors finally opened, as Thor descended back onto the sofa. He sat beside Helblindi. The muscles on his should tensed to the point of pain, while Loki appeared with his back to the room, as he awkwardly closed the doors with arms occupied and muttered complaints spilling from his mouth. He finally turned. Magni sat within his arms. Tears pricked at Thor’s eyes, as his breath escaped him and his hands trembled. He made to run toward Magni, but the hand returned to his wrist and pulled him back, and it took all his self-restraint to remain in place.

Magni babbled endlessly to Loki, while he gazed up at his uncle with bright green eyes, and the tunic-top and trousers were the perfect blend of both Asgardian and Jotun attire. He laughed and smiled and swung his limbs, even as Loki slid him down onto the floor, and his small hands tugged and pulled at the leather of Loki’s coat, as he tried to pull him towards the sofas. Helblindi cleared his throat. Magni turned and looked towards the far sofa, before he cried out: _‘papa_ ’! He ran with small legs directly towards Helblindi, while his laughter grew ever louder.

He dove at the last moment. Helblindi barely found time to bend low, as he scooped Magni up into his arms and stood to twirl him around in the air, and soon Helblindi showered him with kisses, before sitting once more with Magni placed comfortably between Thor and Helblindi. A sigh broke from Loki, as he found a seat on an adjacent sofa, and threw himself down while running his hands over his face. He waved a hand towards Thor and Helblindi, as he said:

“He may be a little overexcited to have seen Byleistr home.”

“I don’t understand,” said Thor. “Why is he excited to have said goodbye?”

“I – I – I got to visit the kitchens,” chirped Magni. “Uncle Byleistr took me to see Grandma Frigga, too, and she gave me lots of Asgardian toys. He also showed me all the Asgardian stars with Mr Heimdall, and Mr Fandral showed me archery and how to sword-fight! Uncle Byleistr said I can have a sleepover with Fannar and Steinn when I go home, too.”

“Wow! It sounds like you had a very busy day with your uncles.”

Thor reached towards Magni. He extended his hand to ruffle the blond locks; Magni flinched, before throwing himself backwards against Helblindi. The small body contorted to get away from the extended hand, while he crawled onto the lap of his father and sat against his legs, before he buried his head against Helblindi’s chest. The tiny hands buried themselves against the sleeveless tunic. Thor rapidly blinked, as he swallowed back the lump in his throat. He pulled back his hand. The smile left Helblindi, as he winced and shook his head. He mouthed ‘I’m sorry’ to Thor, while Magni pouted and watched Thor with an intense stare.

“He’s a little shy,” said Helblindi.

Helblindi ran long fingers through the blond locks, while he hummed the tune of an old lullaby just loud enough for send small vibrations through his chest, and Magni yawned and rubbed at his eyes, before his smile returned and his expression softened. Thor wiped at his eyes with rough fingers, as he schooled his trembling lips into a forced smile. The distance between them was less than a foot or two, but it felt like miles when he son sat so close and was still just out of reach. Thor sat on his hands. He nodded towards Helblindi, while he gnawed at his lips.

“I understand,” choked Thor.

“I – I am sorry,” whispered Helblindi. “I may have been a little overprotective. You must understand that I never allowed him to be near strangers, and even time with Loki or Byleistr was heavily supervised for the longest while. He also has no memories of Loki in anything other than his Jotun form, but for me . . . for him . . . it’s different. I think he’s still adjusting.

“He never saw me in my Asgardian form. He was always in a Jotun form in turn. He’s also now in a different realm, with a different culture and language and customs, and that was his first funeral the other day, so I had to explain the concept of death. It also goes against our religious beliefs to burn the dead, so even _that_ needed to be explained; he’s a little overwhelmed. I promise that he’ll get to know you over time. Trust will come.”

“It doesn’t make it any less painful.” Thor winced. “He looks so much like both parents. I can see your eyes looking back at me, but he has my hair framing his face. He has our skin, but your facial features and my smile . . . every urge in my body is saying to hold him, but my mind is screaming at me that he needs space and time to adjust. It’s . . . It’s hard.”

He moved to touch Magni, but his hand caught under his hamstring. Thor froze. He moved back into a position to keep his hands still away and away from temptation, while his eyes filled with unshed tears that distorted his vision, and – with a smile – he looked to Helblindi and shrugged, as he strove to maintain a composed expression. Helblindi pursed his lips. He opened his mouth to speak, but only half-a-sound was formed before he fell away, and he half-smiled despite a tear pricking at the corner of his eye in turn. He pressed a kiss to Magni’s head and whispered:

“Can Thor have a hug?”

Magni shook his head.

“Can Thor have a hug later, maybe?”

Magni nodded.

Thor freed his hand. It came to rest above his heart, as warm laughter spilled forth, and he locked eyes with Helblindi to whisper a heartfelt: _‘thank you_ ’. A rush of warmth swept through him, while the adrenaline and panic seeped out of every nerve, and the tension dropped from his muscles, as he fell back against the soft cushions of the sofa. Magni pulled back from Helblindi enough to cast his green eyes between both parents, as he asked in a confident voice:

“Did I do something wrong?”

He slid from Helblindi’s lap onto the floor. He pressed his back against the sofa, as he squeezed between the legs of his father, and tilted back his head to gaze at them with an upside-down face, while his hand extending upright with a grasping motion. A chuckle was the only response from Helblindi, who reached down to part a small section of blond hair. He plaited slowly, despite the apparent expertise and familiarity, and Magni lowered his head and stretched out with an awkward inelegance that could only be comfortable to a child. Helblindi whispered:

“Why would you ask that, sweetie?”

“You have a sad face,” said Magni. “I don’t like it when you’re sad. Thor looks sad, too, and Uncle Loki is all quiet . . . Uncle Loki is _never_ quiet! He only goes quiet when he’s scared, and when he’s happy he talks and talks and talks. Uncle Byleistr tells him to shut up.”

“ _Our_ Loki?” Thor asked. “He’s that much a chatterbox?”

“I do have a life outside of Asgard,” muttered Loki.

“Uncle Loki taught me _seidr_ ,” chirped Magni. “And – And – And Uncle Byleistr taught me to hunt! My papa teaches me to read and cook and history and art . . . I think Papa talks the most, especially when he tries to explain stuff, but he forgets that you’re there. I once left the room and came back, but he was _still_ talking to Uncle Byleistr! Uncle Byleistr made faces. It was funny.”

A blush broke across Helblindi’s cheeks. He looked briefly to Thor, while the hand holding the braid froze fixed in place, and – with a wave of his other hand – turned quickly to look away, while he muttered something in the Jotun tongue to Magni. Magni laughed and whispered _‘no_ ’ in a playful tone. The two bickered, enough that neither noticed as Thor slid onto the floor just beside Magni, and he rested his arms on his knees, as he smiled down at the beautiful boy that was so expressive and energetic. Magni caught sight of Thor and asked again:

“Am I in trouble?”

“No,” said Thor. “In fact, we just wanted to talk to you; that’s all. Your father and I have some big news, and your Uncle Loki is just here to help us explain. If you have any questions, we all wanted to be here together so that you could ask them . . . it might be a little confusing.”

“So I’m not in trouble for not doing my homework?”

“No, but now you’ve told your papa -? Well, you might be in a _little_.”

Helblindi yanked at the half-finished plait. It brought a small yelp from Magni, who tilted back his head and spat out his tongue, and Thor threw back his arm, as he leaned back to see Helblindi smiling down at their son, even as he bore a quirk of the eyebrow and stern gaze. The bond between them was undeniable. It was the same look Frigga once wore when they were children . . . _sitting to have their hair styled and brushed, saying something that should not be said, a sharp tug in warning as they sheepishly apologised_ . . . Thor smiled.

“Can I tell him?” Thor asked.

“It may be better if I tell him,” said Helblindi.

The braid was quickly finished. It sat small and thing, just to the side of Magni’s face. The style was so much like how Thor wore his braid, enough that his hand reached instinctively to touch at the blond hair, but his hand caught against Helblindi’s knee. They both flinched. He quickly yanked back his arm with a blush, as the touch of the smooth and warm skin lingered against his fingers, and clasped his hands together between his legs, as he stumbled over an apology. A low hum fell from Helblindi, as he smiled to Thor, before he looked back to Magni and asked:

“Do you remember you once asked about your other father?”

“I remember,” said Magni. “You said he lived away.”

“Well . . . that was true. You see, Uncle Thor is your father. It’s why you have such pretty blond hair, and why your smile makes everyone so happy, and it’s why you’re so big and strong like your Uncle Byleistr. You’re a lot like Thor, because Thor is your other father.”

Magni awkwardly turned around, while remaining on his knees. He dropped his head onto the edge of the sofa, while throwing his arms over Helblindi’s legs, and – with an obvious pout – narrowed his eyes in a glare that could have belonged to Odin or Loki. Thor covered his mouth to hide his smile, especially when Magni hung lazily from those legs with all his weight. A tiny hand pointed towards Loki. Helblindi rolled his eyes, before hooking his hands underneath Magni’s armpits, and lifted Magni back onto the sofa beside him, as Magni cried out:

“Thor is Uncle Loki’s brother!”

“Ah, yes,” said Helblindi. “Uncle Loki isn’t like Uncle Byleistr, though. We call Byleistr ‘Uncle’ because he is _my_ brother and your blood, but we call Loki ‘Uncle’ because he’s _Thor’s_ brother. They are both your uncles, but they are related in different ways . . . they both love you just as much as each other, though, and they both want for you to always be happy.”

“So . . . so why wasn’t Uncle Thor with us?” Magni furrowed his brow. “If he’s my daddy, he should have lived with us, right? That’s why Uncle Agnar lives with Uncle Byleistr, because they’re in love and had babies and raise the babies together. Isn’t that how it works?”

“Well, yes, _usually_ ,” sighed Helblindi.

Magni stared up at Helblindi. It was with eyes opened wide, and eyebrows knitted together, while his head tilted on the side, as his hands continuously pushed at Helblindi’s arm. Thor slowly made to stand, but his gaze fell quickly on the still parted legs. He held his gaze long enough that Helblindi adjusted his position, as a low sigh escaped him, and he leaned on his side upon the sofa, so that he faced Magni directly and was able to stroke at the blond hair.

Thor blushed, before he dropped back onto the sofa. He angled his body into turn, so both parents were face-to-face with Magni between them, and – swinging his legs over the edge of the sofa – Magni looked between them with a visible pout. Thor rested his arm on the back of the sofa, much like the position Helblindi had assumed, and he tapped a finger lightly on Helblindi’s forearm, which still jerked with Magni’s small pushes. Helblindi looked to him. He pointed to Magni and made an obvious gesture with his eyes, as he whispered:

“May I take over for a while?”

Helblindi nodded.

“I will be honest with you, son,” said Thor to Magni. “You see, long ago, your papa really wanted a child, because he had _so_ much love in his heart that he needed a child to give his love. I also wanted a child, and I knew I would love you from the minute you were born. There was nothing in this world that we wanted more than you . . . we would think about how we would love you, raise you, and be the best fathers we could be to you. You would be special.”

“So you got married and had sex?”

Thor choked on the air itself. He spluttered and stumble over his words, as incoherent sounds fell out like a storm from his mouth, and Helblindi pinched the bridge of his nose, as he avoided Thor’s wide-eyed stare with a faint blush. Loki burst out into laughter. He laughed until tears spilled from his red eyes, while he clutched at his stomach and bent forward. Thor shot him a dark glare, before throwing his hands over Magni’s ears and pressing tight, before he drew in a deep breath and found enough strength to ask in a quiet and hissed voice to Helblindi:

“You _taught_ him about _that_?”

“Oh, I suppose I could have taught him about the stork?” Helblindi smacked away Thor’s hands. “It would have preserved his innocence, yes, but also set a precedent in which he could never come to me with any questions, because all he could expect were lies in return. Tell me, for all your magical babies grown in ‘cabbage patches’, and storks delivering babies, which one of our realms has the _lowest_ rate of unwanted pregnancies in the entirety of the Nine Realms?”

“You are aware he’s only _five_!”

“You act like I sat him down and showed him ‘Two Asgardians, One Bilgesnipe’! It was a very basic talk about how one man has a seed and one man has an egg, and after a special hug that the two are placed inside one man’s tummy to grow into a baby; that’s all, Thor. Look, we can argue about how best to teach sex education to the next one –”

“The _next_ one!”

“ _But_ the fact remains that this makes the discussion easier, as our son will understand the concept of surrogacy and potentially even egg donation. We’re officially a couple now, for better or worse, and not only will the world expect us to work in tandem, but our son will look to us as an example of his future relationships and internalise what he sees as normalcy. I would ask that we argue later in private, but for now maintain a façade of unity before our son.”

Thor glared. It brought lines about his forehead. The flare of his nostrils was accompanied by a hiss of breath, while he ran a hand over his face and rolled his eyes, but – on looking down at Magni – he saw tiny hands rubbing at tiny ears, as if trying to rub away dirt. Thor softened. He dropped his shoulders and let the frown die upon his face, as he forced a smile and whispered: _‘I’m sorry for touching you without your consent, son’._ Magni spat out his tongue, before he muttered: _‘It’s okay’_. The smile returned to Magni, as he leaned against Thor.

Tears pricked at Thor’s eyes. He choked back a sob, as his heart swelled and his hands trembled, and he threw his wide eyes to Helblindi, who smiled back with a sincere expression. He nodded to Thor. Magni threw his legs onto Helblindi’s lap, before throwing up his hands and opening and closing his fists, and – with a roll of his eyes – Helblindi slid closer, so that Magni was almost squished between them, before stroking again at his hair. Thor smiled and whispered:

“Well, Magni, we didn’t get married.”

“Why not?”

“Be-Because . . . Because there was a lot of difficulty between our realms. A lot of people died on Jotunheim a long time ago, and the Jotun people and Asgardian people didn’t like each other very much, so we weren’t allowed to be married. We had to spend a lot of time away from each other, which is very sad . . . especially as we both wanted a son. It was very difficult.

“It’s why we asked your Uncle Loki to help. He was able to travel between the realms, so he could take the seed from me here, and then grow you inside his tummy there. Papa and I hoped to be together again one day, so we could raise you as a family, but – until then – Papa raised you alone with great bravery. I wasn’t able to visit, but I loved you with all my heart. Now that Asgardians and Jotuns like each other, it means Papa and I can raise you together.”

“What if they fall out again?”

“They won’t,” promised Thor. “You are born from two kings. You are _proof_ that love is stronger than hate, and that even when the universe tried to keep us apart, we still were able to make you and come back again as a family. You are half-Jotun and half-Asgardian; that means you have _two_ amazing races inside your blood, both of which make you the perfect little boy you are today, and that is because Uncle Loki helped grow you in his belly, so we could be your daddies.”

Magni frowned. He crawled awkwardly again, until he was on Thor’s lap, and he reached up with to run his hands over the beard on cheeks and chin, before pulling at the brain just behind his ear that was interwoven with a slither of leather. He stood to look into the blue eyes, with enough weight on Thor’s legs that he huffed a little at the pressure. Magni then dropped down, almost like a dead weight across the laps of both parents, as he rolled onto his stomach, and – with a low groan – pointed an accusatory finger towards Loki and asked in an astounded voice:

“So I grew in _there_?”

“I was just a surrogate,” said Loki. “I love you very much, because you’re my nephew, but Thor is your other father . . . one day, we’ll tell you a little more about the egg, but for now you only need to know that they loved you very much and couldn’t be together. I grew you in my tummy, so that they could still have a perfect baby boy, and then gave you to your papa.”

“Oh,” said Magni. “Will they get married, too?”

“They say they won’t, but I think they will,” teased Loki. “They won’t marry for a _very_ long time, though . . . they both love you very much, and they both like each other very much, but they need a little while to be ready to get married. It takes time to be ready to marry.”

“Will they get married here or back home?”

“We’ll have to wait and see. Thor will never leave you again, I promise, and he’ll go with you back to Jotunheim, where you can get to know each other better. You can spend some of the year here, and some of the year on Jotunheim, and you can be with both Daddy and Papa. I’ll still be your Uncle Loki. You’ll still have your Uncle Byleistr. You’ll just have a new daddy.”

Thor reached out to tap on Magni’s head. He rolled onto his back, but misjudged the space that would allow for the action, and Helblindi – with a loud cry – quickly shot out his hands to grab Magni before he fell onto the floor, before scooping him into his arms. Helblindi ran his trembling hands over every inch of skin, despite the lack of a fall or impact, and squeezed at the limbs to check for any pain or bruises. Thor shook his head, before gently stopping Helblindi with a gentle touch and a slow nod, before he locked eyes with Magni and asked:

“Would you like me to be your daddy?”

“I guess,” said Magni. “You seem nice.”

“Well, I would be honoured to be your other father, Magni.”

“Yeah, I like you, too.” Magni rubbed at his eyes. “I don’t know you, though. Papa says not to talk to strangers . . . I also don’t want to move home, and I can’t be prince of two places. Does this mean I have to be prince of Asgard now? I can’t read Asgard writing. It’s funny. I only know Jotun writing. I’d have to write a lot as a prince, wouldn’t I?”

A loud laugh fell from Helblindi, who warmly embraced Magni. He placed more kisses to the blond hair, while his hand cupped the soft cheek, and the whispered words in Jotun were unmistakable terms of endearment, as he rocked Magni upon his lap. Thor reached towards them, but waited with his hand not from Magni. Magni nodded. He chuckled and took the small hand and held it within his own, and tears finally fell down his cheeks, as he swore to never let go of Magni again. Even when Helblindi next spoke, he never took his eyes from Magni.

“Your father and I haven’t discussed the issue of heirs,” said Helblindi. “It is likely you will be an Asgardian prince, as your Uncle Byleistr will one day be king instead of me, and his children will be kings of Jotunheim instead of you. Your father will always be king here, which means you will always be his heir. You will always be the future king of this realm.”

“Okay,” said Magni. “Does that mean I can have grapes, too?”

“What is it with Jotuns and grapes?” Thor muttered.

“In any case,” continued Helblindi. “You should thank Uncle Loki for carrying you in his tummy, and remember that he will always love you very much. Papa and Daddy also love you very much, and we love him, too, as he gave him the greatest gift of all time: _you_.”

Magni looked over to Loki. He laughed and shouted out: _‘thank you, Uncle Loki’_. He climbed away from Thor and Helblindi, before running towards the toy-chest at the far end of the lounge, and – with no wasted time – the toy-chest was thrown open, while his hands pulled out the toy soldiers and lined them up before a play-house. The small lips babbled over names and stories and histories of each soldier, before he waved over Helblindi with an excited hand.

Helblindi walked over and knelt before Magni, before a toy _bilgesnipe_ was thrust into his hand, and Magni pointed to the roof of the house, which the toy was to ‘guard’. Thor laughed. He stood in turn, as he watched the two play with exaggerated gasps and loud roars from Helblindi, and there was something strange watching him so unusually animated and expressive. It was a truly intimate scene, seeing Helblindi as how no one but his family had seen him before, and Thor blushed to realise he was no longer an intruder, but instead a part of the family.

A few footsteps echoed out behind him.

He turned to see Loki slinking away to the main doors. Thor darted at full speed towards him, before grabbing at his wrist and swinging him around, and – with tears spilling from his eyes – hugged Loki close, with so much force that Loki could not break away from the hold. They remained locked together until no more tears were left to fall, and Thor finally pulled back with a loud sniff, as he laughed a little and scratched at his neck. He playfully punched Loki’s upper arm, before angling his body to keep Magni and Helblindi in his gaze. He smiled again.

“Thank you, Loki,” whispered Thor.

“I thought it was Magni that was meant to thank me?”

“I still can’t forgive you yet,” choked Thor. “I also don’t think we can ever go back to being what we were, not when we want such different things . . . not when you _lied_ to me like that. I know that we can no longer be lovers, but I do hope we can go back to being brothers.”

“You have no idea how happy that would make me, Thor.”

Helblindi looked between them with a frown. He appeared to be staring for some time, as Magni – pouting and fidgeting – started to wave his toys in front of the distracted face, until Helblindi snapped his attention back to Magni with a faint blush. Loki rolled his eyes, before leaning to whisper into Thor’s ear: _‘when you finally feel closure over what we once shared, do not look far to see what you could share with someone else’_. He stepped away towards the doors.

Thor cast his gaze away from Loki, until his back was nearly to him. He brought his hand back to his chest, as he rubbed lightly above his heart, and swallowed back more tears, as he saw how Magni waved his hand to him and signalled for him to come play with loud shouts of ‘ _Thor, Thor_ ’ until . . . finally . . . he whined out ‘ _Daddy_ ’. It nearly brought Thor to his knees. He was already halfway across the lounge, when the faint click of the door broke into his consciousness, and just loud enough to barely be heard, the whispered words echoed out:

“You’ll be an excellent father, Thor.”

Thor turned back to the doors.

Loki was already gone.


	20. Part 4

“I can’t take my eyes off him,” said Thor.

A smile broke across his cheeks. He leaned forward on the bench, where he rested his forearms upon his knees, and the breeze caught at his blond locks, enough that it blew them about his neck and tickled at his tanned skin. The sole warmth came from Helblindi beside him, who sat so close – and at such an angle – that his knee brushed lightly against Thor. He held a book in his hands. Each time the page was turned, it sent a small flutter of air against his forearm.

Magni danced by the pile of leaves, while he laughed and cheered and squealed. The golden and brown leaves were piled higher than his person, left there by a gardener on their request, and Magni continuously dived into them and threw them above his head. He hid inside at one point, where he waited for Fandral to pass, and jumped out with a huge roar. The smile he wore was contagious. It brought a flush to his cheeks, while scraps of leaves and twigs clung to his hair, and his hands and knees were covered in mud from his attempts to climb the trees.

Thor turned with a blush. Helblindi still dressed in mostly Jotun attire, with the tunic barely covering the shorts and exposing a great deal of his lower and upper arms, and the long plait – thrown over one shoulder – seemed to point a line downward, enough that Thor struggled to keep his eyes on the green ones of Helblindi. He leaned his arm on the back of the bench, as he angled his body towards Helblindi, and drew in a deep breath, as he said:

“I’ve barely slept all this week.”

“Hmm? Why is that?”

“I kept thinking about Magni,” confessed Thor. “I know he’s safe within your rooms, but before he was merely my cousin . . . he was no responsibility of mine. Now, he’s my _son_. I kept lying awake in terror that he might need me; it wasn’t even that someone might hurt him or steal him, but that he might fall out of bed or get a nightmare or grow sick. I needed to be sure he was okay.”

“Ah, I was like that for months after he was born.”

“Do you also get that feeling that you miss him even when he’s there? It hurts to even look away from him at times, but to be in another room . . . to not be able to watch him sleep, to be there when he wakes up . . . seeing him makes me smile. I feel this overwhelming and undying sense of absolute adoration, and each time I tried to sleep -?” Thor smiled. “I get so overwhelmed with sheer pride that I just laugh and feel like I need to hold him. I can’t sleep for love!”

“I’m glad that he’s your priority, Thor,” said Helblindi. “I’ve worried about co-parenting, but I’ve worried more that history might repeat itself. The last thing I want is for Magni to form an attachment to you, only for you to leave him for any reason, because that feeling of abandonment is a fate worse than death. You don’t know the damage it does to a person.”

“I would never leave him! What monster would abandon his son?”

Helblindi gently closed his book, before he slid it onto the side-table. He moved his body in turn, so that their knees were pressed against one another, and he folded his hands in his lap, while Thor blushed as his fingers brushed on a bare shoulder. He looked away and stumbled over an apology. A sigh from Helblindi brought Thor’s gaze back, where a saddened expression looked to him with a half-formed smile, and Helblindi nodded across the garden.

Thor followed his gaze. In the distance, Loki sat opposite Frigga at a wrought-iron table. A selection of cold teas sat between them, while Loki pressed the cool condensation of a glass against the blue of his neck, and – every so often – they would look over to Magni and wave. A cheer would erupt from Magni each time, as he would call out ‘ _Uncle Loki’_ and _‘Grandma’,_ and sometimes he would run over to them and be given a sneaky treat, before he would return to the leaves and wave again to Thor and Helblindi. Thor looked to Loki and winced.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” muttered Thor.

“Well, I can understand why you would,” said Helblindi. “Fárbauti lived in constant conflict, torn between longing for the father that she adored and hating the man that cast her aside. It seems that Loki hated Laufey, Odin hated Bestla . . . still, a person is never just ‘evil’ or ‘good’.”

“Tell that to Loki. He still loathes Laufey.”

“Loki only knows what Odin told him, so he views Laufey with a biased viewpoint. Fárbauti was abandoned as a child, as such I truly believe the trauma left a scar in her mind, and one that meant any time she thought to that trauma -? Well, it was like she was a child again, perceiving it with the same feelings of confusion and helplessness and worthlessness as that time.”

“And you fear I would damage Magni in that same manner?”

“If you were to walk away after he formed an attachment? Yes, I do. I can see that you truly love and adore Magni, and coming forward publicly will put pressure on you to remain in his life, especially if we do decide to name him your heir. This has helped assuage some fears.”

“I don’t need societal or legal pressure to remain in his life!”

Helblindi shook his head. The smile that crossed his lips failed to reach his eyes, but it brought a few lines to his face and colour to his cheeks. He lifted his hand from his lap, before he brought it to Thor’s arm on the back of the bench, and – with a momentary hesitation – lightly touched at the pale bicep and squeezed, before sliding his hand back to its previous position. The place where skin met skin still tingled from the touch, and Thor absentmindedly brought his fingers to brush against the spot, before he pulled his hand away and cleared his throat.

“I know,” said Helblindi. “You love him as I love him.”

“No one could love him that much.”

“You do.” Helblindi smiled. “Look, Thor, I remember the first few weeks. The feeling never fades, but the intensity of the fears and fascination does become more focused over time. I also know what it’s like . . . falling asleep staring into their eyes, the sting of jealousy when another makes them laugh, the fear whenever they leave your sight for even a second . . .”

“It feels good to speak to one that understands,” whispered Thor.

“Your mother understands, too. It’s why I asked her about our room arrangements. I thought two adjacent suites would arouse too much suspicion, considering that we’re meant to be going public with our ‘relationship’, and a shared bedroom would be inappropriate considering we’ve been co-parenting for a week. It’s why I thought you could take Byleistr’s bedroom.

“You noticed that we had a two-bedroom suite, yes? I would suggest knocking through the wall to create an archway, and we would share a bedroom with two beds side-by-side, perhaps separated by a bedside table or some such item. Magni would take the second bedroom as a nursery. If our relationship needs to be redefined at a later date, or Magni requires more privacy, we could move into your current suite and gift Magni with his own suite in turn.”

“You’ve given this some thought, it seems.”

“Of course,” chuckled Helblindi. “The construction started this morning, due to be finished in a few days time, and – in the meantime – Magni and I will be in _your_ bed, while you can take the sofa in the lounge. We have to maintain appearances, after all, but I also refuse to go so far as to share a bed with a man to which I’m not married. This protects both the image of us as a couple, along with maintaining propriety and modesty between us.”

The smile this time reached those eyes. Thor shook his head with a smile in turn, as he ran his hand over his head, and took in a deep breath, before he closed his eyes and counted to five. He reopened his eyes and turned his gaze to Magni. The small boy sat surrounded by leaves, which he arranged in lines around him by colour and size, and the effect made it seem as if he were sitting within a star exuding lines of light. Thor laughed and looked to Helblindi, who smiled back with eyes sparkling in the sunlight. Thor frowned. He coughed and shrugged.

“Is that our official stance?” Thor asked.

“I thought we were in agreement?” Helblindi tilted his head. “The public will believe we were madly in love, but were forced to maintain secrecy due to the war and then by Loki’s actions. Loki acted as a surrogate for us in later years, due to his ability to travel between the realms, and now . . . well, now we are raising our biological son together, as we always intended.”

“Aye, I have no objection to that. I’ll even share a room with you, although I would have appreciated some input before the decision was sprung on me . . . I know you say you have issues with sharing and compromising and including others in decisions, but this is ridiculous!”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ coming,” said Helblindi.

“Are you not going to address the issue I just raised first?”

“Thor, I acted as I thought best. The solution is almost perfect, as it would allow us to both to raise and supervise Magni without saying ‘goodbye’ to him every night, and it maintains the image of us as a couple, while allowing us to _not_ be a couple before we’re ready. I . . . I _may_ have acted unilaterally as a king, as opposed to making a joint-decision as a couple.” Helblindi winced. “I could put a stop to matters, if you’d rather a different solution?”

Helblindi furrowed his brow. He lifted his hand to reach toward Thor’s arm, but pulled away with a deepening frown. He reached towards Thor’s knee, but blushed and quickly brought his hand back to his chest. The expressions he wore went through a constant series of transformations, as his lips pursed and pulled in a prominent manner, and – finally – he threw a hand in the air and waved it in a casual manner, before he turned his head away. Thor sighed. He gently took Helblindi’s chin and guided his head back, so that he could lock eyes as he said:

“You must take after the Jotun side of the family.”

“Why would you say that?”

“You apologised, for one thing,” teased Thor. “You also refused to sulk or turn matters against me, as well as made a genuine offer for compromise . . . I’d hardly call that ‘unilateral’. If you want an example of a truly uncompromising position, you should look to my father or brother. I’m grateful you’re taking into consideration my feelings, but . . . next time . . .”

“Do it before and not after?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, Helblindi. Please.”

Helblindi flushed. He swatted away Thor’s hand. Thor opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when Helblindi crossed his legs and folded his arms. He made to slide down the bench, as he prepared to put space between them, but a hand shot out and clasped itself around his wrist. It fixed him in place. Thor swallowed hard. The smile returned to Helblindi, but his eyes remained half-lidded and cast downward, and Thor looked away with a muttered apology, even as he turned his hand to clasp at Helblindi’s wrist in turn. Magni cheered from the garden.

“I do worry how the public will react,” said Helblindi.

“I think they’ll react well here,” answered Thor. “You look Asgardian, which will reassure those with outdated ideas on racial relations, and you have strong connections to Jotunheim, which will reassure the younger and more open-minded people of our population. There are also no other options for heirs on Asgard, so this would give us hope for a generation to come.”

“Hmm, our realm already has two heirs with Steinn and Fannar. I also think some lingering resentment and fear resides toward Asgard, and they would not want what an Asgardian-passing Jotun to be united with an Asgardian. It could be seen that you’re trying to annex or colonise Jotunheim, especially if Magni was to one day rule, and I’d rather not undo my hard work or increase my current workload. I’m not willing to introduce more complications into the mix.”

“But you agreed to the story that we were a couple?”

“Yes, I did.” Helblindi smiled. “I mean to say that I wish to announce my inevitable abdication sooner than later, perhaps on my return, and make it clear that – in a few years – I will hand the throne over to Byleistr; I’ll retain a position solely as an ambassador and advisor. If I can put this into writing, I think that my people would accept our union. We lost so much of our culture, our population, and our history, Thor. They need to know we’ll keep our identity and independence.”

“I can take this as an agreement that Magni will be my heir?”

“I suppose it’s inevitable. If I were to retain my position as king, we would have a dilemma on our hands, but instead Byleistr will rule and I’ll be able to act as your king consort. If we ‘break up’, we will both have equal rights as parents, and Magni could still act as your heir, because there would be no conflict with Jotunheim. I won’t object to that much, but . . .”

Helblindi cast an eye over Thor, before he removed his hand. It slid away slowly, with a lingering touch, and Thor found his hand moving along with Helblindi’s, until – with a small laugh – he yanked it back to his chest and held it close against his chest-plate. Helblindi walked slowly towards Magni, where he finally stopped and knelt before the leaves. He let loose a loud gasp, before carefully touching each leaf and commenting on the ‘artwork’.

The smile from Magni forced Thor to follow. It was bright and warm, with eyes wide, and he babbled aimlessly about the formation of the star-shape, while pointing to the sky to speak of the stars back on Jotunheim. Thor knelt beside Helblindi. He ruffled the blond locks of Magni’s hair, before loudly celebrating the leaf patterns, and kissed at his forehead with further congratulations, but – as he stood – his hand subtly took a hold of Helblindi’s upper-arm, coaxing him to stand alongside with him. He leaned into Helblindi’s ear and whispered:

“Is this pause for dramatic effect?”

“Oh, I _do_ like your humour,” laughed Helblindi. “I want us to draw up a parental contract. If one day we happen to ‘break up’, I want it covered by law that Magni will still have access to his Jotun heritage and culture, as well as access to his family on Jotunheim. I will agree to him living primarily on Asgard, but he _must_ be available to have visits on Jotunheim, as well as to attend family events and spend time with his cousins. I won’t compromise on that.”

“You’ll have no argument from me. I’ll even insist on that. I want to be able to watch my cousins grow and see the men they become, and I’ll be _damned_ before I go back to the total segregation and cold war between our realms. I want to increase awareness and tolerance, and that will start with Magni and the next generation of Asgardians and Jotuns.”

“We seem to be in agreement on most matters.”

“Indeed, it’s . . . _refreshing_.” Thor sighed. “I argued and disagreed with my father on most points, while Loki often is at odds with my beliefs and desires, and my mother seeks too much to mediate, so much so that I fear she holds back on her opinions to avoid confrontation. You’re . . . well . . . _honest_ ; even when you hold back on some element of the truth, you never lie and you never do anything for ill-gain, and your motivations are usually benign.”

“You ascribe too much good to me. We’ve been lucky to agree on most points, but one day we’ll disagree on something so vital to Magni’s upbringing that there will be little room for compromise, and – on that day – we’ll have a true test as to whether this co-parenting can work or whether it was always doomed from the start. Let’s not assume this will be easy.”

“Don’t all couples have that issue? My parents were always at odds! I think it’s less about always agreeing, but more about listening to one another and respecting one another . . . I – I never listened to Loki, which may be why we were ‘doomed from the start’. Bestla and Bor never respected for one another, which is why it ended so badly for all involved, but this . . . _us_ . . . we know better, don’t we? If we can’t learn from our mistakes, how can Magni?”

Helblindi smiled. He looked Thor over with a raised eyebrow, before he leaned down and lifted Magni into his arms. Magni sat perfectly against his hip, while he continued to babble away to both parents and gesticulate below to the leaves, and Helblindi stroked at his hair and cuddled close to him, as he pressed his face against blond locks and breathed deep. It made for a beautiful sight. Thor stepped closer and dropped a hand onto Helblindi’s shoulder, where he squeezed as he looked down into his son’s eyes and felt tears well. He barely heard as Helblindi whispered:

“You called us a ‘couple’, Thor.”

Thor let his hand slide away, as he scratched at the back of his neck. The wind caught at Magni’s hair, while he struggled to get back down onto the ground, and – as Helblindi gently dropped Magni back onto the grass – he ran back to the pile of leaves. He threw himself onto the pile and waved his arms and legs, as he made an ‘angel’, and Thor shook his head at the strange Jotun game, especially when Magni jumped up to use some golden leaves to give it hair. Thor turned to Helblindi with tears in his eyes, as he took in a deep breath and nodded to him.

“I know we’re not a couple,” said Thor. “I still have residual feelings for Loki, and that will take time to lessen and leave . . . I need time . . . it’s strange, isn’t it? I know we’re over, and I know we could never have worked, and I know that I could have feelings for someone like you, as on paper you’re an ideal partner, but . . . I just need time to even think about moving on.”

“I wasn’t proposing marriage, Thor,” laughed Helblindi.

“In the future, though . . . will this always be pretend or will –?”

“Oh, you don’t waste time, do you?” Helblindi smiled. “I never thought anyone would ever want me, Thor. I was too Asgardian for men to find attractive, and my position led to those that did attempting to use me for the wrong reasons. I sort of got used to the fact that I would lead a celibate life, but to find someone that’s both my equal _and_ that finds me attractive -? Well, I wouldn’t deny that I would be open to seeing if this could work between us . . . in the future.”

“Once you can be sure it’s not a rebound?”

“I know it’s no rebound. If it were, you’d waste no time in attempting to bed me . . . we share a child, we share rooms, and we are an official item . . . hmm, if anything, it makes me respect you more to know you respect me in turn, and that you won’t act until you can be certain that it’s _me_ that you want. I believe that my interest in you could one day also extend further . . . _one day_.”

Helblindi pushed back a lock of black hair. It fell loose from his braid, where it framed his face and provided a sharp contrast to his pale skin, and Thor – with a callused finger – stroked back the lock behind an ear, before his knuckles seamlessly continued the touch to stroke along the strong jaw of Helblindi. Helblindi leaned into the touch, before he gently side-stepped the hand turned his back to Thor. Thor caught a glimpse of a smile, before Helblindi called over to Magni and requested that he return to pack or Jotunheim. Magni ran at full speed.

He practically dove at Thor, who was forced to quickly duck low. He scooped Magni up into his arms, before swinging him high above with fast and successive twirls, and finally – when Magni was close to tears with laughter – dipped him low and smothered him with kisses. Thor finally held him tight against his chest, before he looked back to Helblindi. Helblindi stepped close. He wrapped his arms around Magni in turn, until they held him together.

“You’re a good father,” whispered Helblindi.

Thor smiled at Helblindi. They stood close enough to embrace, with skin touching skin as both held onto their only child, and – as their eyes met – Thor turned again with a blush, while Magni spoke endlessly about the leaves and seasons of Asgard. Helblindi pressed a kiss to Magni, but his eyes never once left Thor. He finally took a hold of Thor’s chin, before forcing him to lock with his gaze, and smiled as he whispered in soft and sincere words:

“Parenthood is a good look on you . . .”

* * *

_Loki leaned back in his seat. Thor and Helblindi stood close enough to touch, to hug . . . to kiss . . . while in their arms rested their son, that stole their every ounce of attention. It was a true family unit, with the sunlight streaming down on them bright and strong, while the leaves rustled and moved in the breeze. They soon turned together. They walked towards the palace, where they disappeared behind doors that closed behind them, and finally they were gone._

_Frigga poured some tea into his mug, while she followed his gaze to the doors. The wrinkles to her face were more pronounced, etched deep into the skin about her cheeks and eyes, and there were bags that indicated sleepless nights, as the colour remained drained from her flesh. He winced and opened his mouth to speak, but she raised her hand and smiled. He stopped. The breeze picked up into a wind, as it caught at her locks, and – for a brief second – Loki saw Thor smiling back at him, as the light struck her expression just right. Frigga asked:_

_‘Do you regret your decision?’_

_‘They both always wanted children,’ said Loki. ‘They have complementary personalities. They both can accommodate each other perfectly, too. If they end up together, they can have the perfect life that both always dreamt of having . . . how can I regret their happiness?’_

_‘What about your happiness, Loki?’_

_He sighed, as he sipped at his mug. The tea was sweet to the taste, with a hint of honey, and he half-closed his eyes to savour the moment, before gently setting the mug down with a click of porcelain on the platter. The warmth lingered on his blue palms, as he turned them and opened and closed his fingers in a slow and rhythmic pattern. Loki sighed. The steam from the cup floated upward, before being caught by the wind and swept aside, and – with a shake of his head – he brought the mug to his lips and downed the contents. He slammed down the mug and said:_

_‘I was merely an incubator . . . a surrogate.’_

_‘You still love him, though.’_

_‘I love Thor, yes, but not Magni.’ Loki scoffed. ‘It’s a bit of a deal-breaker, isn’t it? Still, I truly am happy to see him happy, and I . . . I will admit . . . I feel free. I can finally travel the realms and seek out adventure! I’m in charge of my life. I answer to no one; I answer not to Thor or Helblindi or Father. I can play my pranks and learn new tricks. I can be happy.’_

_‘If you can be happy, my son, I will be happy for you.’_

_‘Sigyn recommended a spot on the edge of Jotunheim. He said it has caves that go underground for miles and miles, like a labyrinth, and that they once served as a series of catacombs in the past, with so much history that you could wander for months and only uncover a_ fraction _of what was before that an entire Jotun civilisation built underground. He went there after his divorce. I thought maybe I could ask him to give me a guided tour. What do you think?’_

_Loki looked upward with a smile. Jotunheim was just out of sight, hidden behind clouds and skies and vast amount of light, and yet – along with dozens of other planets – it was so close and ever present . . . the wind brushed against him, much like the colder climes of Jotunheim. He brought a hand to his cheek and smiled. Frigga chuckled, as she sipped at her tea. The wind picked up once more, scattering some leaves about the table, and Loki stood quickly, as he slipped off his coat and came around to drape it over her shoulders. Frigga took it with a smile and said:_

_‘I think Helblindi and Sigyn will be good for you both.’_

_Frigga pressed a kiss to his cheek, before she stood and held tight to his coat. He gently placed a hand on her upper-back, as he helped guide her towards the nearest set of doors, and winced to see how slow she walked, while her bones felt more prominent. A servant took her by the arms at the doors, before they guided her away and along the corridor. Loki lingered in the doorway. He cast a glance across the gardens . . . past the mess left by Magni, past the bench where Thor and Helblindi once sat . . . he looked to the doors where they had long departed._

_‘I truly am happy for you, Thor,’ whispered Loki._

_He turned with a smile and left._


	21. Epilogue

Loki was beautiful.

The blue complexion stood out against the white snow. He wore his black locks of hair loose, with the curls just dancing about the tops of his shoulders, and his red eyes were scrunched with laughter, as he walked alongside his husband towards the palace. The footprints behind were erratic, as he spun around to gesticulate and touch and locks eyes with Sigyn. The leather of his coat hid most of his body, as it fell to his ankles, and the trim was wet from the ground.

Sigyn truly appeared a ‘giant’ at his side, especially in Jotun attire. The bare muscles were adorned with the Jotun markings, while the loin-cloth did little to keep his modesty, and – despite towering above Loki – he always made eye-contact, even as they walked. He never once looked away from Loki. He angled his body towards Loki, while unconsciously mimicking his body language, and he would find any excuse to touch at Loki . . . _a stray hair, a dusting of snowflakes_. . . Thor shook his head with a smile. He waved from the courtyard.

Loki waved back. He picked up his pace, before he darted through the wrought-iron gates. A simple wave to the guards was all that was necessary, as he raced towards the main doors of the palace, and – as Sigyn followed at a slow pace behind – stopped just short of Thor. The two shared in a nervous laugh. Thor scratched at the back of his neck, while Loki threw up his hands with a shrug, and Sigyn slowly caught up to stand beside Loki. Thor said with a grin:

“I did not expect to see you both here.”

Loki rolled his eyes, as he stepped towards Thor. Thor grabbed at his arm. He pulled Loki flush against him, as the two embraced and tears pricked at both sets of eyes, and Thor – with a chuckle – held tight until Sigyn tapped him lightly on the shoulder. A few seconds had become a few minutes, without either man having noticed, and Loki pulled back with a muttered apology, while his long fingers wiped away his tears. He sniffed and leaned against Sigyn, whose arm draped around him. Loki smiled warmly enough that lines broke on his face. He said:

“I wouldn’t miss Byleistr’s birthday milestone.”

“True, but you _did_ miss the last few family reunions.”

“You’ve had a reunion every year since your wedding!” Loki shook his head. “You are aware most families have get-togethers maybe once every five years, at the most, and I believe one every decade is considered the norm. It’s not very practical to come back to Asgard or Jotunheim on a whim, especially when travelling across the Nine Realms and beyond.”

“You could at least send messages,” said Thor.

“I _did_ send messages! I used the _seidr_ taught to me by Mother, but the last time I projected myself in your presence for a ‘face-to-face’ conversation -? Well, needless to say that I’m little offended you’d try _that_ position with Helblindi, but would never try it with _me_. I decided not to project myself after that, as I could have done without that mental image seared into my brain, but . . . well . . . kudos to you, as that position requires both trust _and_ acrobatics.”

Thor choked on the air itself. He stepped back until he was pressed against the stone wall of the palace, while he raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, and locked his wide eyes on Sigyn, who simply tried to hide his laughter behind his hand. Thor blushed. He cast his gaze back to Loki, but there was simply the mischievous grin mixed with a feigned air of innocence, and – as if to complete the look – he even raised his eyebrows and muttered a silent ‘what’. Thor glared hard at him, until Sigyn laughed aloud and nudged Thor’s shoulder with his fist. Sigyn teased:

“Loki tells me everything, Thor.”

“What else has he told you?”

“What _hasn’t_ he told me?” Sigyn smiled. “We have a policy of ‘no secrets’. I’ve told him things in turn that I’ve told no one else . . . secrets that I thought I’d take with me to my grave, secrets that burned my soul to keep inside . . . I never thought I’d find someone that I could trust, but – despite his silver-tongued reputation – I can trust Loki. Trust me in turn, Thor.”

“He is discreet,” added Loki.

“Aye, but you’re not!” Thor flushed red and snapped: “We will agree when to talk in advance from this moment forward, Loki. Do not project yourself into my bedchambers again! I know there was a time before my marriage where there was nothing to be seen, but I’m married now . . . surely you must know what that’s like? There are some rooms off-limits.”

“Oh, _please_! If Sigyn and I refused to entertain guests in any room we have sex -? Well, I doubt we’d ever be able to entertain guests again . . . hell, even the garden would be off-limits. I don’t think anyone would be able to just drop by on a whim. There was one time in an alley where –”

“Loki, I do not need to know whatever it is you’re about to say!”

“So I also can’t tell you about the syrup on Midgard?”

“Or their whipped cream,” laughed Sigyn.

Thor cast a cold eye at Sigyn. He turned it in turn to Loki, who threw up his hands in mock defence, before finally bursting out into loud laughter again, and – despite everything – the sound was contagious . . . it was good to see him content. Thor smiled in turn, even as he glared at them both and folded muscular arms across his chest. The laughter took time to die down, especially as Sigyn and Loki shared looks that spoke of inside jokes and shared memories, but finally Sigyn pressed a lingering kiss to Loki’s forehead and stepped to the main doors.

“I’ll go join the others inside,” said Sigyn.

“I’ll be with you shortly, my love,” whispered Loki.

“Take your time. You two have fun catching up, okay?”

Sigyn took Loki’s hand. He squeezed it with a firm hold, while his blue cheeks flushed darker, and – as he stepped away – he refused to let go of Loki’s hand, until eventually their hands lingered in the air outstretched to one another, before he finally went inside the palace. Loki still kept his hand outstretched, as his smile finally faltered, and he brought his hand to his chest, where he clasped it against the leather layers. A small sigh escaped him. Thor smiled and nudged him hard in his side, before Loki spat out his tongue in a childish manner. Thor said:

“You’ve met your match with Sigyn.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He likes to tease and embarrass, too.” Thor smiled. “He’s a jokester. He’s adventurous. He also likes his independence, enough that he can give you space you need, and he also must be open-minded to look past what we once shared. There’s just one thing that I need to know, though, especially because you have no boundaries and seem okay to over-share.”

“We’re _brothers_ , Thor. There’s nothing too personal to discuss.”

“Okay . . . well . . . is it true what they say about Jotuns?”

Thor looked about the courtyard. The guards marched along the perimeter, particularly at the two far ends etched into the mountain that provided natural fortification, and others stood resolute and silent at the main gates and doors, but none remained within earshot. Thor cast his eyes over Loki’s trousers, but Loki simply furrowed his brow. Thor nodded and vaguely gestured to his area, but Loki simply shrugged and shook his head. A long sigh followed. Thor finally pointed directly at Loki’s crotch, and – as realisation dawned – Loki spluttered, stuttered and shouted:

“I – I am _not_ answering that!”

“Ah, so he’s as hung as he is tall then?”

“You might be a king, but you’re still a brat!” Loki shook his head. “I have no idea how Helblindi puts up with you . . . he knows that you slept with a plush toy until you were a teenager, right? I still remember that you’d cuddle up to it and gnaw on its ear while you slept. How cute!”

“Oh shut up! Does Sigyn know about your pet rabbit named ‘Rabbit’?”

“Oddly, yes. It came up when we bought a new ‘rabbit’, so to speak, on Midgard. You would not _believe_ how liberal the people in that realm are in regards to sexuality and body image . . . I might have been forced to wear an illusion with Sigyn, but it was also nice to be able to hold hands and kiss and live together without being called ‘ _ergi’_ like on Asgard. I know you spent a few days there, but in the past year I’ve learned so much about them! I have much to tell you.”

“I can’t wait to hear it, but . . . did you see Jane while you were there?”

“I purposely tried to avoid her, but Sigyn convinced me to see her for your sake. I believe she won some sort of ‘noble prize’, and she is married to a man named ‘Donald’, with two daughters that were oddly adorable. They were enough to make even me broody.”

A smile broke across Thor, as he looked to Loki’s stomach. The hissed exhale of breath was an answer in its own right, but Loki shook his head again and struck his hands out in an emphatic ‘no’ gesture, before he smoothed down his layers to showcase a perfectly flat abdomen. Thor nodded in acknowledgement, before he clasped a hand down on Loki’s shoulder. He squeezed. A breeze picked up across the courtyard, with snow building against his ankles, but he remained connected to Loki until tears started to form once again. Loki smiled back.

“I have never seen you so happy,” whispered Thor.

“I have never _felt_ so happy,” confessed Loki. “I have been all across the cosmos with Sigyn, but there are still so many more places to visit . . . one day, I think we’ll come back to Jotunheim and settle here on a more permanent basis, but for now I feel so free! If I get bored one day, I can be somewhere else the next. If I’m bored of one look, I can illusion another.”

“Ah, you mean your gender?”

“In part . . . I never got to explore that part of myself, but it’s nice to finally have a label to what I feel and to be able to express that. The mortals call it ‘gender fluid’. Sigyn even calls me ‘Lady Loki’ when I present myself in that manner, and it also feels good . . . validating, even.”

“I wish I had such inspiring stories to tell, but I fear my life would bore you in comparison. I have never been so happy, either, though! We are spending all our time on Asgard now, where Magni is soon to graduate from the Academy, and you should see how rebellious and adventurous he has become. You thought I was trouble? Ha! I had to actually visit Father’s memorial and apologise to him, as Magni takes up so much of my time!”

“You sound almost _proud_ about that,” laughed Loki.

“I’m beyond proud! I’ve seen him grow into a passionate, expressive, and confident young man with all the best qualities of me and his father . . . and – well – some of the worst, too. Helblindi thinks he’ll grow to be just like me, as well as an excellent king, and I’m inclined to agree. I see so much of both Helblindi and myself in him. He’s perfect in every way, Loki!”

Loki smiled and made to speak, but Thor whispered:

“Come, you must see my son!”

Thor wrapped a hand around Loki’s wrist, before he pulled him to the entrance. The doors were opened wide by the guards, who bowed deep as they passed inside, and the main hall stood before them with an array of Jotun and Asgardian people of all ages and sizes. In the distance, Byleistr stood against the main staircase. He was cornered by nobles and royals from all realms, while Agnar stood beside him and completed the image of the perfect royal couple.

In the crowds, Steinn mingled with the people. Thor laughed and pointed in his direction, as he nudged Loki and whispered ‘look’, and there – with great confidence – the young man flirted with an Asgardian woman, who seemed interested in his advances despite her blushes. Fannar kept close to Helblindi and Sigyn at the opposite side of the hall, where he seemed to seek to hide in their shadows, and the nervous expression said ‘I do not want to be here’, so much like Loki in his youth that there was no denying their biological connection.

“It’s far too busy in here,” said Loki.

“It’ll be worth it to feel the baby kick, I promise!”

Thor pointed towards Helblindi. He could barely suppress the smile, as one hand came over his mouth and the other rested just below his chest, and tears threatened to spill from his eyes, as – even across the vast distance of the hall – his gaze met with Helblindi. Helblindi smiled in turn, as he waved to Thor and rested one hand on the swell of his stomach. The clothes he wore were a perfect blend of Asgardian and Jotun style, but exposed his arms and legs much as Thor always appreciated, and his long plait hung down until it reached the backs of his knees.

He then gently turned Loki to point to a far corner. Magni stood tall beside his sister, now a young man who stole the eye of men and women alike, and – were it not for his short hair, shaved in an act of rebellion – the resemblance to Thor would be uncanny in nature. The young girl beside him bore a striking similarity to Helblindi, although her blond hair was loose and shoulder length, and her smile was at odds with Magni’s pout. Thor asked in a bright voice:

“You remember Ragna, yes?”

“I am hardly likely to forget my niece, Thor.”

“Well, she is mastering _seidr_ so well that it would put you to shame.” Thor beamed. “I swear she grows to be more and more like Mother every day, and you should see how she sits in the library and consumes all the books in sight for hours on end! Ah, she knows how to fight, but she relies more on her words, just like Mother and Helblindi. I think she takes more after him.

“There is a stoic nature about her, but there is also always a beautiful smile. I think a lot of people underestimate her, because they assume her to be vapid or a gorgeous ornament, and I think she likes for people to think that, just like Helblindi. There have been innumerable times where she’s humiliated a rival or won against a competitor, all because she was able to think several steps ahead and use their own prejudices against them. She will be an excellent princess.”

“It seems you love your children as I love to travel,” teased Loki.

“If you give me all night to talk about them, I’ll give you all day to listen about your travels.” Thor shrugged and smiled. “Helblindi is praying our next one has black hair like him, especially as they’ll be our last . . . I volunteered to have a vasectomy. He wasn’t impressed when I referred to it as the worst pain ever endured, as he dared me to carry a child to understand real pain.”

A loud burst of laughter fell from Loki. He shook his head and walked away, as he moved towards the tables of food centre of the room, and each circular table was laden with ornamental displays that truly showcased the wealth and talent of Jotunheim. It would only be time before others would flock around Loki . . . _‘where have you been?’, ‘you must have seen many things!’, ‘will you tell us tales of your adventures?’_. . . Thor piled a plate filled with Loki’s favourite foods, before he handed it towards him and nodded towards Sigyn, and whispered:

“You two really are a beautiful couple.”

Loki hummed. He relaxed his muscles on sight of Sigyn. The smile was beautiful, one rarely seen in the difficult years before his departure from Asgard, and he pushed back a lock of black hair with a soft blush, while Sigyn winked over to him and blew a kiss. Thor sighed, as he walked to a hidden spot by one of the columns. He waited. Loki soon followed, where they stood mostly hidden in the shadows, but still in view of Helblindi and Sigyn, and – unable to take his eyes from Helblindi – Thor took in a deep breath and said in a slow whisper:

“I sometimes miss what we once had . . .”

“Don’t, Thor,” begged Loki.

“No, not like that,” said Thor. “I mean to say that you were my first love. It still means something to me; I may no longer be in love with you, but I do still love you . . . even if I sometimes struggle to make sense of how I feel. You must know what it’s like? It’s bittersweet; I look back with fond memories and smiles, sometimes wishing that things could have been different, but equally I know that I was in love with the idea of love, more than _in_ love itself.

“It was a crush, wasn’t it? In an ideal world, we would have wanted the same things, and we would have been happy, but we just weren’t right for each other . . . it took me a long time to get closure. You made me so happy and the break-up made me so sad, but I see now that there are degrees of love and my love for you is not invalidated by our failure as a couple.”

“You’re right that we would never have been happy together.”

“No, but at least I’m happy _now_.” Thor smiled. “I wake up every day with a smile. I roll over and I feel the side of his bed still warm, and I breathe in his scent, and he’ll walk in almost immediately after I wake, as if he’s been waiting for me. He’ll kiss me and whisper: ‘you’re late’. I’m always late for something, but I’m somehow never late for that morning kiss.

“It fills me with terror to think that if you’d fallen from the bridge . . . if you’d never committed those acts upon Jotunheim, if you hadn’t sabotaged my coronation . . . I would likely never have met Helblindi, and I would go through life deprived of my soul-mate. Every choice – good and bad – led me to him and to my children. You were my _first_ love, but our love was necessary to bring me to my true love and to bring us together. If not for Magni, I would not be so blessed.”

Thor gently held the back of Loki’s neck. He rubbed it with callused fingers, while they locked eyes and held still amidst the chaos, and finally – with a chuckle – Thor let go and let his hand slowly trail away, before he walked across the hall to Helblindi. He pressed a chaste kiss to waiting lips, and his hand moved instinctively to the swell of the stomach, where he pressed firm to feel the kick of their unborn child. Tears pricked at his eyes. He barely looked away, even as Loki came to stand beside them and asked to feel the kick. Helblindi teased:

“You may have to fight my husband for the privilege.”

Thor blushed, as he removed his hand with a muttered apology. Loki shook his head, while he quirked an eyebrow in Thor’s direction, before – with a smile – he pressed his hand against the stomach of Helblindi, who helped guide it lower to the right position. He waited for several seconds, until he yanked back his hand with a gasp. A bright smile broke over him. Loki returned his hand and looked between Thor and Helblindi, as if it were his first time to feel a child kick, and finally removed his hand to lean back against Sigyn with a warm expression.

“This is where I’m meant to be,” said Thor. “If even just one second of our history was altered, it’s entirely possible I wouldn’t have the most beautiful husband in the world. I don’t regret a single moment of the past, because it had led to a _lifetime_ of moments with Helblindi.”

“I’ll never admit this aloud, Thor, but . . .”

“But what?”

“I feel the same way about this great lummox.”

Sigyn leaned down to kiss Loki. It led to a choked sound from Fannar, who slunk away while pulling faces of someone half his age, and – just to add to his embarrassment – Loki started to kiss Sigyn all the more while making purposely saccharine compliments. Fanner picked up the pace, while Helblindi pinched the bridge of his nose. Thor laughed. He covered his mouth with his hand, while he turned to face Loki, and Loki – with Sigyn’s arms around his shoulders – smiled back, as he rested his hands upon his husband’s. Thor nodded to him and asked:

“Are you happy, Loki?”

“I feel like this is the life I’ve always meant to live,” said Loki. “I love Mother and Father, but I resent that they hid from us our heritage . . . I keep thinking that maybe I could have met Sigyn sooner, or maybe travelled the worlds before now, and maybe – feeling more complete – I wouldn’t have been so broken to commit the heinous actions that I did.”

“That is the past. What about the future?”

“I have so many plans for the future.” Loki smiled. “I’m glad that Sigyn and I are on the same page, as – if we ever do change our mind about children – at least we’ve lived the wild and adventurous life we both always wanted. We _finally_ have been able to achieve our dreams!”

“Every day is a dream,” chirped Sigyn. “Is that too cheesy to say?”

“Just a little,” sighed Helblindi. “Morning sickness is a chore at the best of times.”

Thor nudged Helblindi. He turned his gaze back to Loki, who tilted his head back to lock eyes with Sigyn, and the two of them were perfectly blended together, as if out of a picture book from a more romantic period. The two whispered in Jotun so quickly that only odd words were audible to a non-native ear . . . _‘tonight’, ‘love’, ‘promise’ . . ._ a loud burst of applause erupted from the staircase, turning their eyes back towards Byleistr. He was surrounded by hands raised in a toast.

The crowd quickly dispersed, as he bowed and thanked them. Fannar seemed to slip in among the moving people, before darting around Agnar and Byleistr just as they turned, and vanished into the deeper recesses of the palace, before even his parents noticed his presence. It was impressive enough to draw a low hum and smile from Helblindi, while even Loki failed to notice the skill and _seidr_ in the disappearing act, and soon Agnar and Byleistr posed at the top of the stairwell for a quick kiss, before they vanished into the palace in turn. Thor sighed.

“Byleistr wants the whole family together for this week,” said Thor. “He has a private meal planed just for us six tonight, followed by a get-together with the children tomorrow after breakfast, and he says that he won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. It is his birthday.”

“Yes, for _today_ , not for the whole week,” said Loki.

“In any case, will you spend time with Helblindi and me on Asgard? I mean when all this is over and it’s time to return back to our homes. You and Sigyn have your rooms exactly as you left them, and I am desperate to know what my brother has seen and experienced.”

“It’s been just a few years, but it feels like a lifetime apart . . .”

“So spend time with us? A month or two, maybe?”

Loki tilted back his head again. Sigyn nodded. The two broke into smiles at almost the exact same moment, while Helblindi waved for a guard to escort Magni and Ragna back into the palace, and – as the servants subtly started to pack away the tables, while guests departed for hotels and rooms – Loki locked eyes with Thor. There was still love in his gaze, even if he only had eyes for Sigyn, and tears pricked in his eyes as he warmly replied:

“I would love to, Brother.”


End file.
